A Song of Black & Gold
by TheForeverKing
Summary: Caspian, second in line to the Iron Throne after his brother enjoys being the second son. Unlike his brother, he has nothing to prove, nor the pressures of having to interact with the court at large. But in his fifteenth year of life, the machinations of his family force him to become more involved in the kingdom that he had left his brother to rule. OC Main Character
1. Chapter 1

First story, and its A Song of Fire And Ice/Game of Thrones. Love the show and books, although I don't like how Martin plays out Daenarys. Nothing bad ever seems to happen to her apart from the having to kill her husband and mutated stillborn baby but that's for another day. But still, I want those bad things to happen more! I loved the Starks and now their only hope is Sansa, Arya and Jon...and Jon got shanked recently after climbing all the way to the top of the Night's Watch...I just want more bad things for Dany! Come on Martin, give us some bad things Martin! I want bad things!

Well here goes anyway...

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Fire And Ice/Game of Thrones_

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The Black Prince

The north was always cold. It always was, even during this decade long summer, it always had a certain chill to the air about it. The cold would creep onto your skin and have a certain bite to it. When the wind blew, it felt like small pricks digging into the body and on the worst days, like blades slashing across the body.

Caspian had wondered once how anyone could live in such a cold place. Until he had spent a year here in the care of the Starks, he had learnt something important, the northerners were a tough and sturdy people who he couldn't help but come and respect.

They had lived off this patch of Westeros for thousands of years and they have never complained about it, but just carried on with their lives.

It had been nearly a month since the king's company had set off from King's Landing towards the capital of the north and the home of the wardens of the north, Winterfell. A little more had passed, a week or two maybe since the death of his old mentor Jon Arryn. He had only been in the capital for the better part of several hours before he had been summoned to the sick chamber of the man that had defined him for the better part of his formative years.

Jon had tried to tell him something, but the fever that had taken him had worked quickly and made him delirious, half-mad maybe, he couldn't tell. He could barely make-out what the dying Hand of the King had tried to tell him, what he had said did not register with Caspian, not in the slightest.

He had stayed with the man until he had finally passed. He had gone to pay his respects to Lady Lysa and her son Robert but had found them to be gone from capital to the Vale.

That had been rather...strange.

Caspian was located in the rear of the company, lying down on one of the supply carts, eyes closed with his arms serving as a cushion for his head as they were crossed behind him. Trailing slightly behind the carriage was his black steed, Shadowfax, its reigns tethered to the cart to stop the horse from running off, and surrounding the carriage was Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard and a company of House Baratheon armoured guardsmen riding as additional protection, dressed in the black and gold colours of their liege House.

His older brother, only by a few seconds at most had been given the honour of riding at the front of the column and he to ride at the rear whilst his younger brother and sister were located in the middle of the column in a carriage with his mother.

"We'll be approaching Winterfell soon Caspian."

Caspian peeked open an eye, revealing it to be of a purple coloured eye, a shade of lilac. He slowly rose from his rest and scratched his shaggy mane of black hair that reached the back of his neck, "Now when you say soon..." He trailed off as he looked towards his sworn shield, a former Dornish sellsword by the name of Asher Sand, a bastard of a Dornish lord and Tyroshi woman.

Considering the libertine lifestyle of the Dornish people, Asher would have found himself not wanting for attention from his father, but he was a rather independent boy. When he was only twelve years of age, he had managed to garner passage to Essos were he soon joined a mercenary company, the Stormcrows and ran amok with them for a few years before coming back Westeros before he had reached his twentieth year.

Out of a whim, he had participated in one of the many tourneys the king held, he had gone on to win the melee, which resulted in him getting the honour of being asked if he was willing to become the sworn shield of Caspian after his impressive display.

Although in Asher's case, he had accepted simply because he would get paid regularly and stay in fine accommodations, rather different from his time in Essos, the two eventually managed to build a rapport and Asher would honestly say he might be more than a little willing to lay down his life for his charge.

But he would never say that to Caspian's face.

Asher himself said that he looked more like his mother rather than his father and the bastard born swornsword never said anything about his father other than that. He had thick black hair that reached his shoulders and his eyes were an amber so full of colour they may as well have been gold with a clean shaven features. Caspian had come to know that most women who looked upon him, found him to be fair to look at due to his very comely features.

Asher raised a hand covered in a gauntlet and pointed forward, "Soon as in the castle is in sight." The man former sellsword said with a slight hint of an accent that Caspian couldn't be able to identify, "You know what that means?"

Caspian simply sighed as he shook his head as he stood up, balancing himself on the back of the cart as it continued to travel along with the column, "I can't be lazy anymore." He said as he undid the reigns that were tied to the cart and whistled his horse closer to him.

"You have been doing nothing but sleeping on the back of carts for nearly the whole journey." The dark-haired sworn shield said, amusement in his tone as he spoke watching Caspian manage to move himself from the cart and onto the horse with a jump. He didn't need to see the faces of the guardsmen to know that they had held their breath as they watched the Second Prince make the leap from the cart to his horse.

Caspian reigned in his horse as it moved around, getting used to the sudden weight on its back, "I like sleeping." He looked around, "Where is my darling little brother anyway?"

Ser Arys indicated behind himself, having to shift slight to move his white cloak to the side as it blew in the wind, "Back there on the carriage my lord."

Caspian turned his head in the direction where the kingsguard was pointing and saw the frame of his younger bastard brother who also doubled as his squire. He grinned as he waved at the boy who returned it, a bored look on his face, "Look at him having fun."

Asher didn't agree with that sentiment, "I don't think he's having fun. He looks rather bored."

"And that is where me and you disagree old buddy." The second prince remarked as he turned his head to face the front, his eyes now glued on the distant form of Winterfell, "Still looks like a gloomy place, like the last time I was here."

Asher scrunched up his nose, "At least you are used to the cold. I'm not. I prefer my weather to be of a more warmer climate." He had disliked the year he had spent here during the time Caspian was fostered to the Starks. It was cold, grey and depressing in general, but he would have to admit that the northerners knew when to have a good time.

Caspian turned his head slightly to look at him, "I can see that." He said, a rather amused look on his face when he took in the large cloak with the furred hood that Marko was wearing, his body hunched up to keep the warmth within his body, "I almost mistook you for a bear."

"If it wouldn't be for the fact that nearly everyone here would want to cut my hand off after doing it," He said, his tone and voice dry, "I would give you the bird."

"Then it's a good thing you don't then." Ser Arys chimed in, amusement in his voice and from the looks of some of the Baratheon guards around, they shared his thoughts.

Asher humphed and looked away rather childishly, "Loyal bastards." He grumbled underneath his breath, but then again, he couldn't really blame them. There was something about Caspian that inspired loyalty, an inner strength so to say. Marko could only put that to the fact that Caspian was Caspian was rather a likeable person considering everything else.

And considering how his brother was, it was a small measure that he was preferred by many of the nobles of the court. He sometimes couldn't believe that Joffrey was related to Caspian, even more so when he learned they were twins.

He certainly wouldn't have thought of them twins. They looked nothing alike, but then again, he had heard of twins that looked neither alike and met some in his life, but Joffrey and Caspian were two extremes.

They were both tall and could be considered handsome by many, Joffrey taking after his mother with long blonde curly hair, bright green emerald-like eyes like his mother and pouty lips. Caspian on the other hand took after his father, his hair jet black and a messy mane sitting atop his head and two strangely mismatched eyes, one the deep blue of his father's and the other a dark shade of purple and his frame was lean but it had more muscle to it than his brothers, but not overly so.

Caspian had once seen the Mountain That Rides and had been adamant he was never going to have anywhere near as much muscle as that man in his life.

The grand maester had assumed that the purple was a dormant trait from his great-grandmother, Princess Rhaelle Targaryen or the Valyrian blood within House Baratheon. Other Houses that claimed Valyrian descent in Westeros also shared purple eyes.

When they finally reached Winterfell, the people were lined up outside on the street that led to the castle, wanting to see the Baratheon-Lannister column that held the royal family. When Caspian finally entered the castle of Winterfell itself, with Arys, Marko and the rest of the Baratheon guardsmen, he could see people kneeling in front of his father.

He dismounted once his father bluntly told them to rise before going to hug Lord Stark and talk to him like they were old friends, 'Well, they are old friends to a certain degree.' The two men hadn't seen each others faces in nearly seventeen years and here they were talking like no day had gone past. That was some friendship they had Caspian had to admit.

He approached the waiting Lady Stark and her children as his father and Lord Stark went towards the crypts to pay their respect, 'No doubt to Lyanna.' Caspian mused to himself, 'Mother probably isn't pleased with that.' Even after all these years, his mother still played second fiddle to a dead woman. He couldn't help but find some dark amusement in that was the reason their marriage was so shambolic.

He bowed pleasantly in front of Catelyn, "My Lady Stark," He said as he straightened himself, "It's been too long. I hope you can remember me from the scrawny boy I used to be last time I was here."

Catelyn smiled at him as she looked him over, "Prince Caspian, you have clearly grown."

Caspian refrained from rolling his eyes, by now she should have known that he didn't like being called prince, especially by those he considered close. Instead, he just smiled before his attention turned to Robb. A smug grin came onto his face, "Sorry there Robb..." He said slowly, addressing the older boy, "I didn't see you...down there." He finished off, alluding to the point that he was taller than him.

"Haha." Robb replied dryly before smiling before the two enveloped in a hug before releasing, "Look at you all so tall and everything." He frowned though before looking, "Still ugly as ever though."

"At least I'm ugly, I don't know what _you_ are."

Robb flicked his auburn hair back in a showy manner, "Beautiful is what I am."

"...Yeah, if that's what you keep telling yourself at night to go to sleep, I won't stop you." The second prince quipped as he turned to the other Stark children, "Look at this, a line of fish and a lone wolf. I didn't know wolves like fish."

Bran, Rickon and Arya chuckled at the quip but for the oldest among them, not so much. Sansa rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips, "That wasn't funny the first time you said, it isn't funny now."

"I like to think it is..." He muttered somewhat dejectedly before picking himself up again, by now having known his quirks since they had lived with him for a little more than a year, the Stark children merely ignored it. Caspian then saw Tommen and Myrcella looking all sweet and shy behind him, he grinned before deciding to introduce them, "Tommen, Myrcella, meet Bran, Rickon, Arya, Sansa and Robb." He said before looking around before noting that Rickon had disappeared with Lady Stark, "Well, Rickon isn't here anymore, but there's another one I want you to meet, but he's hiding around somewhere the bastard..."

"I'm surehe'll turn up somewhere." Robb said with a smile on his face, knowing who he was referring too.

Caspian nodded before going underneath his cloak and pulling out a flannel, "Alright, since we haven't seen each other in so long, how about some wine?"

Myrcella gasped as she looked up her older brother, "Mother let you have wine?"

Caspian cringed a bit, much to the other's amusement. The second prince quickly looked down at his sister, "It's not wine Myrcella," He replied quickly and rather shakily, "It's just some water. Nothing else, nothing more. Don't tell mother." He finished off with a beg that brought several laughs to the older children.

"If its just water," Myrcella began, looking at him with inquisitive green eyes, "Why would I tell mother?"

'You keep on believing that.' Caspian thought before rubbing his sister's hair in an affectionate manner, "That's a good girl. Now why don't you two go play with the others? Me, Robb and the bastard are going to catch-up." He watched them go off with the other children and a smile came onto Caspian's face. He sighed contently, "Ah, the joy of being young. So gullible."

Robb looked down at the flannel in his hand and then back to Naruto, "You realise we're going to be drinking later on at the feast right?" His royal friend nodded his head, "And you plan to drink before that?" He nodded once more, "...Should I be worried?"

Caspian turned to look at him with a hint of amusement on his face and a small smirk, "Come on now, it's not like I'm trying to get you to come with me to a brothel."

"I'm surprised you aren't."

Caspian smiled as he looked to the side to see the other dark-haired Stark in the family although he deigned the last name of Snow, "Jon, been a while. Where were you hiding?" He asked as he held out a hand.

Jon clasped the hand in a shake, "You might be fine with me, I don't know about your siblings."

"Well, speaking of siblings..." Caspian turned around and called over Edric who had been busy being entertained by Asher. The dark haired boy answered the call and went towards him, "Robb, Jon meet my younger brother, Edric Storm." The two brothers had confused looks at first before they registered his name. Jon looked down at the boy with a curious look about him, noting that he did share similarities with Caspian apart from his rather noticeable large ears, "He's also my squire." Caspian finished off rather nonchalantly as he buffed his knuckles on his cloak.

The last part caught both boys off-guard as they had looks of shock on their faces. So much that they were able to barely miss the boy when he bowed at them in greeting, "Greetings."

Jon was still stuck in shock so it went to Robb to be the one to speak for both of them, "Greetings to you too." He said before looking quickly at Caspian and voicing their thoughts, "Squire?"

Caspian grinned an easy grin, "Oh right, didn't I say? I'm a knight now, so you can address me as Ser Caspian Baratheon if you wish." He said rather flippantly, "Oh the Great, whatever you want."

Edric had a look of amusement on his face as he looked up to the still shocked brothers, "Or you can call him by the other name he's known as."

The two boys managed to regain their wits long enough to look down at Edric in curiosity, "Which is?"

Edric grinned, "Caspian, the Black Prince." He declared, ignoring the slight twitch of the brow of his older brothers.

Jon blinked before laughing, "That rather suits you, considering the rest of your siblings." He then looked over Caspian with a narrow eyed look, "But still...you a knight? You southerners will make anyone a knight nowadays wouldn't they?"

Caspian just smiled, a predatory smile, "I can _and_ will hurt you."

"Maybe later." Jon said with a laugh, "Right now, I want to have a taste of some of the eh, 'water' you brought. Let us see how it compares to the northern water."

XxX

(Later)

It was the time for the feast and Caspian stood outside the great hall, Arya stood beside him dressed in a clothing fit for a lady of her status, not that she seemed to enjoy that fact. He got on well with Arya and even found her rather boyish behaviour amusing, but he was rather sure that she didn't want to be doing this but only did it because she was the second daughter and he was the second son, and once again, by a few seconds.

If he had been the first to come out of his mother's womb, he would have been standing at the front with Sansa instead of Joffrey and he would have the title of Crown Prince, but he liked being the second prince. Not much was expected off him thus it gave him a large amount of freedom to do whatever he wished.

It was at times like this he didn't like being a prince, he was never one for ceremony and would have just preferred to just enter the hall and eat like everybody else instead of coming into the hall in the proper manner.

But it seemed as if the gods had smiled down upon him as when he finally paid attention to his surroundings, he had found himself seating in his seat, eating his food amidst the roaring laughter and celebration in the hall. He sighed when he saw his father had already found some rather pretty wench and was already having his hands all over her.

Either it was due to his position as king or the alcohol did no-one call out on his actions. He didn't need to look behind him to know that his mother was glaring at the wench with a cold fury in her eyes at the spectacle. He felt sorry for Lady Stark who sat next to his mother, the tension must have been unbearable.

Arya seemed to notice his boredom before elbowing him slightly, "I bet you I can launch these peas at Sansa." She said as she held up her spoon and pointed at her older sister with the eating utensil.

Caspian, sceptical and his face showed it, "You can't make that shot." He said, his attention away from his food and surroundings as he conveyed with the younger girl.

She grinned a rather toothy grin that showed her confidence in the matter, "I so can."

Caspian looked at Arya then to Sansa who was seated some yards away before shaking his head, "You don't have the power or accuracy to make that shot."

Apparently, Caspian had been wrong as Arya had gone on to prove that she did in fact have the power and accuracy to make the shot. Unfortunately, making the shot also resulted in her getting send to bed early by her brother, Caspian could only laugh at that, especially when she tried to blame it on him.

He just acted as innocently as he could.

XxX

Arya bolted from the room that held the other girls as fast as her legs could take her, but she managed to stop herself to give a quick bow to Princess Myrcella before continuing out through the door. She had heard Septa Mordane call out to her along with the dreaded threat that she was going to tell her lady mother.

Maybe today would be her lucky day and the septa wouldn't be able to find her mother? Maybe, maybe not.

She couldn't stand to be in that stupid room doing all that lady stuff like needlework. She was horrible at it, Sansa was far better than her when it came to needlework and she always made sure to show it, even when she didn't want to. She would rather ride horses, feel the wind rush past her body as she raced among the moors and plains or even swing a sword left, right, to and fro.

She ran fast among the keep before finding herself in a walkway that overlooked the courtyard, and her eyes brightened at who she saw. She came to a halt beside her older brother, "Jon!"

The bastard of Winterfell turned his head ever so slightly and looked at his younger half-sister, "Arya," He greeted with a smile, "Shouldn't you have lessons?"

She perched herself on the edge of the bridge to get a better look, "They are boring." She replied quickly enough, her attention on the courtyard where she could see Bran and Tommen were having a spar. She wanted to laugh. Both boys were covered head to toe in padded armour which made it difficult for them to walk around and she could only say they looked more like they were waddling than walking, like those black and white, flightless birds she once saw at the coast, "This is much more fun." She said, a half smile on her face that was straining not to become full-blown laughter.

"If you say so." Jon replied with an easy smile about his face, looking down at the courtyard, himself leaning onto the railings of the bridge to get a closer look, as much as his neck would allow him.

Arya looked around and noticed that the courtyard was split into three groups. The Stark guardsmen were at one side watching the fight, laughing occasionally when one of the two boys did something that was hilarious, on another, near the courtyard wall were Lannister men and she could see the Crown Prince leaning against the wall surrounded by squires. She had to look down directly to see the Baratheon men that were also watching the happenings between the younger two.

She could make out Jon cheering Bran on along with other Stark men as he fought against Tommen. Arya turned her head slightly to glance at her brother, "Why aren't you down there?" She asked, curious, "You could beat any of them."

She frowned when she felt Jon ruffle her hair as he laughed, "Bastards like me can't hurt royal blood. It has to be another high-born, like Robb."

Arya frowned at how her brother referred to himself before smiling, "I could do it." She said proudly, her hands on her hips and a confident look on her face.

"I doubt you could lift a longsword with arms like that."

Arya's heart jumped to her throat as she nearly shrieked loudly at the sudden voice that spoke out. She quickly snapped her head to the side to notice Caspian standing beside her, "When did you get here!?" She demanded, a hand on her heart trying to calm it down.

The second prince glanced at her with an amused look in his eyes, "I've been here for a while now."

Arya frowned, "I would have noticed."

"But you didn't." Jon chimed in, holding back a laugh. He then pointed a finger towards Joffrey, "Caspian, I've been meaning to ask, why does your brother wear that sigil?"

Caspian's nose scrunched up in disapproval, "Because he's a mama's boy."

Arya was confused at the subject and decided to voice it, "Why shouldn't he wear that sigil?"

A look was shared between the two older boys that was quick and fleeting as they decided silently between them who was going to answer, "Because it shows equality between his mothers and father's house."

Caspian laughed in amusement, "If _only_ it showed equality."

Jon glanced at him, "What do you mean?"

"Look at it." Caspian said, a finger pointed in the direction of his brother, "Look at it closely."

Jon and Arya raised an eyebrow and tried their best to make-out the finger details of the Crown Prince's sigil. Arya's eyes were beginning to hurt from all the squinting she was doing so she stopped and rubbed her eyes, "What am I looking for?"

It was Jon who answered, "The tail..." His voice holding surprise in it, "I can't believe it. He's actually doing that?"

Arya confused, turned her attention back to the sigil once more and looked at the sigil. She frowned in confusion, "So the tail crosses over to the stag side, what's wrong with that?"

Jon laughed quietly, "The tail is _crossing _over to the stag side..." He said slowly before looking at his sibling, "How is that showing equality? Both should be equal, no crossing over whatsoever. He might as well be saying the Lannisters are superior to the Baratheons."

Caspian nodded his head, "Exactly." No small measure of distaste in his voice, "But he is the Crown Prince and he can where whatever the hell he wants."

Jon looked at him in amusement, "If you had been the first to come out of your mother's womb, you would have been the Crown Prince and heir." He laughed, "I would have preferred you as my king rather than him, he looks like a little shit." The bastard didn't even feel like apologising for the way he had talked about the crown prince, knowing that Caspian wouldn't care. The laugh he had heard showed that he didn't particularly care at all.

"A lot of people do..." The second prince mumbled underneath his breath. He quickly had to deny if he had said anything when he was questioned by Arya.

The three continued making small chatter as they watched the action below. The fight ended in Bran's victory after he was able to send Tommen sprawling to the ground and Rodrik had to call the match after the young Stark had held his wooden sword high above him ready to continue if Tommen had stood.

"Well, I believe I do owe your brother an ass kicking." Caspian said as he placed both hands onto the edge of the walkway, "I should go and give that to him." He finished off as he vaulted over the edge to the ground below, making a forward roll when he made contact with the ground to spread the impact across his body rather than allowing his legs to take it all.

"Show off." Asher remarked from the side lines, idly juggling a throwing knife with one hand.

Caspian just smiled, "You are the one who taught me how to do that."

Asher just shrugged, "Still a show-off."

Robb watched Caspian make his way towards him, dusting his coat of any dirt he could see. He smiled as his old friend stopped in front of him, "And here I thought you had run away."

"Me? Runaway?" Caspian repeated, mock offence in his voice, "I am hurt." He finished off as he picked up a wooden longsword and gave it several twirls to get used to it, "Alright, let's do this."

Robb was the first to move when they had gotten themselves in the centre of the courtyard. He came at Caspian with fast and powerful swings and swipes of the sword, yet Caspian was always on hand ready to dodge, block or parry to the side. Arya could tell that her older brother wasn't giving his opponent any time to think as he repeatedly attacked him.

The two clashed swords and a battle of strength started as they pushed against each other. It wasn't long before it showed that Robb was the stronger of the two, but before he could capitalise on this, Caspian pushed their swords to the side, unbalancing Robb who didn't expect such a thing before he found himself at the receiving end of a shoulder barge that sent him reeling backwards.

He managed to keep himself on his feet but had to quickly steady himself whilst at the same time be on the receiving end of an assault from the prince himself. Unlike said prince, Robb found himself hard-pressed to defend himself as Caspian's attacks were far faster than his own and he felt some stinging pains on his body at the times that he couldn't protect himself properly when the wooden sword hurt.

He knew that if this was a real sword, he would have found himself dead several times over.

There was something to the way Caspian moved, like he had been in real combat before hand. He knew what to do and at the same time, knew what not to do, as in this instance, he didn't give his opponent any chance to come to the counterattack and tried his best to always not clash swords with him and have a battle of strength where he knew he was going to lose.

Robb brought his sword up high to block a downward swing only to find his feet kicked out from underneath him. He blinked in surprise when he found Caspian's sword held out at his face.

"You got better." The prince remarked as he withdrew his sword and helped his friend up. From the watchers, their was applause coming all around at the battle between the two young lordlings.

Robb took the hand and had something of a frown on his face, "You got _even_ better." Like he wasn't already good enough back when they were children. He could now start believing that he had actually been made a knight.

He just shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing a little dedicated training would do."

Robb didn't think that was all there was to it. He voiced his opinion, "It seems like you have actually been in real combat."

At that Caspian couldn't help but laugh as he nodded, "Yeah, I spent a year in Essos." Robb's eyes widened and his jaw hung open slightly. The prince rubbed his chin in thought, "Ended up spending my time with some old friends of my sworn shield...who also happened to be sellswords. I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

Robb managed to get himself together before shaking his head in amusement, "I don't think my mother would have allowed me to do such a thing."

A mischievous grin came onto Caspian's face, "It's a good thing mine didn't know that I did now wouldn't it?" He brought a finger to his lips and made a shushing sound, "Shh, don't tell anyone now. Especially my mother, she would probably have a panic attack, or something." He finished off with a shrug.

Robb once again gaped, but this time, he managed to get over it and shook his head, "I want to say I'm surprised, but I'm really not."

"I can't see how you would enjoy swinging a play sword around brother." Joffrey chimed into the conversation from his side, a smug look on his face, "I expected more from you, I didn't expect you to start playing around."

Robb held back a snarl, he didn't like Joffrey. This was the first time he had met him, but even all the way this far north, they had heard rumours about him being a little shit and since he had come here, he hadn't been proving those rumours wrong, not in the slightest.

He couldn't even believe he was related to someone he could say was close to a best friend towards him, let alone a twin. They were polar opposites.

Caspian merely smiled evenly at his older brother, "Well, we could always play with real swords if you want brother. In fact, why not? Have a spar against Robb here, I'm sure he's dying to see your superior sword skills." Robb looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Caspian leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Don't worry about it, he's a lost cause when it comes to fighting. No skill, no strength, nothing. I gave him a tiny little cut once in a spar and he went crying to our lady mother."

Robb couldn't help but snigger.

Unfortunately, Joffrey saw this and was quick to ask or more demand than anything else, what his brother had just said to his northern friend, "What did you say?"

Caspian grinned, "I was just telling him about your physical prowess...like all those time we trained with each other..." He said slowly as he thought of a recent example, "Like say...what was it? Four years ago? I remember-."

Before he could finish speaking, Joffrey cut him off, his face slightly red, "It doesn't matter what you think brother. I don't really care about your opinion."

"It's so nice to know we share one thing in common." Caspian remarked with a grin on his face before turning around and began to make leave of the courtyard along with Robb, "Even if that's the only thing we share in common apart from our parents."

XxX

(Some Time Later)

'I don't want to be here.' He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be anywhere but here, but here he was and although he didn't like it, he knew he had to be here.

Caspian stood on one side of his father within his tent who was sat down on a raised chair and on the other side was his mother and brother who was clutching his arm. The tent was crowded, filled with knights among others.

They had been on the king's road for the past several weeks as they made their way back to King's Landing. His father having done what he needed to do when he had sat out for Winterfell, which included two objectives, paying his respect to Lyanna Stark. He had once told him about the woman who had his heart before his mother...no wait, that was incorrect. He had told her about the woman that _still _had his heart, even his mother had been unable to push the memory away from his father's heart.

He had morbidly mused that was probably/definitely the extenuating reason as to why his mother always looked at his father with such a cold, loathing look in her eyes. The same kind of look that she occasionally cast in his direction but had learned by now to ignore and set it aside.

He wasn't going to bend over backwards for anyone, even his own mother, to try and prove something he wasn't even responsible for.

The second objective his father had travelled north was to visit Eddard Stark whilst at the same time, recruit him to replace his old mentor Jon Arryn as Hand of the King. He couldn't help but agree that Lord Stark was probably the correct choice in that manner as he seemed to know how to handle himself but he couldn't help that he was a little worried about how he would be able to handle himself in court.

He seemed a little too trusting for Caspian's liking.

Everything had been going well, the journey had been fine that was until now of course. Apparently, Arya and a butcher's boy by the name of Mycah had beaten on his brother without provocation and then Arya's direwolf had gone on to attack Joffrey and nearly 'chew' his arm off.

Caspian had snorted at that, from what he had seen, his arm didn't even look like it was nearly anywhere been chewed off. He had seen the fighting pits of some of the Free Cities and had been made witness to something actually be _chewed_ off and Joffrey's hand didn't look anything like it.

Lord Stark clearly didn't like what was happening if the cold look on his face was anything to go by and his father was clearly uncomfortable about the whole ordeal. In fact, he looked like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here.

"I'm sorry Ned," Robert was the first to speak, his voice gruff and disgruntled, "I didn't want to bring her here so quickly, but its best we get this whole business dealt with quickly."

Ned's face still had a look of ice as he spoke, even his voice followed the same suit, "And what business is that?"

His mother was the next to speak after she took a step forward to bring attention to her, "You know full well Lord Stark. That girl of yours and the butcher's boy attacked my son. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off."

Caspian once again couldn't help but glance at his brother. Joffrey felt his brother's eyes on him and he turned to meet his emerald with his mismatched blue and purple. The two just stared at each other before Joffrey looked away with a haughty look on his face.

Caspian just had a victorious looking grin on his face.

"That's not true!" He was brought back to the proceedings happening at hand by Arya's shout, "She just bit him a little." Caspian couldn't help but grin. If the wolf had been able to tear off the arm, he would have been looking for that wolf and thrown a feast for it. Maybe a loss of an arm would serve to toughen up his brother and beat-no, bite sense into him, "He was hurting Mycah!" Arya continued fiercely, not backing down from the queen's gaze.

"Joff told us what happened," Cersei replied icily, "You and that butcher's boy beat on him mercilessly with clubs and then set your wolf on him."

"That's not how it was!" Arya was close to tears by now, the tears had already moistened her eyes and she felt them pricking from behind her eyes. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder in a show of strength.

"Yes it is!" Joffrey yelled back at her, opening his mouth for the first time, "They all attacked me and she threw Lion's Tooth into the river!"

The second prince could barely hold back a chuckle at the name of the sword. He never did understand, wasn't fang much better than tooth? It sounded far more fierce than tooth.

"Liar!" Arya shot back heatedly.

"Shut up!" Joffrey shouted back.

"As amusing as this is," Caspian chimed in, getting attention to him although he wondered if he had been able to suppress the smirk of amusement he had on his face when they had started talking, but he decided to put that to the side for now, "We could do this all day and I would like to go to sleep this night. So why don't we hear both stories of what happened? Although I'm rather sure one side is complete bullshit and the other not so much." He finished off with a dry look levelled at his brother's direction who looked affronted but at the same time, didn't bother to meet his eyes or couldn't meet his eyes being more accurate.

"Well you heard the boy," The king spoke up, getting attention on the subject at hand once more, "Get on with it, but know it is a crime to lie in front of the king."

Arya was the first to speak. She looked directly at King Robert and told her side of the story. Of how she and Mycah were playing by the river and then Joffrey and Sansa's arrival. She told of how Joffrey began to bully the boy and started hurting him by cutting him on the cheek with his sword, how she disarmed him and threatened him before throwing the sword into the Trident.

Caspian nearly cried, but good, hearty cries at that. He could tell he wasn't the only one as he could see some of the people in the tent just wanted to burst out laughing, but managed to hold their tongue in front of the king.

The second prince had a hand to his mouth, "Well, your turn big brother." He said as he looked at Joffrey, "Please do tell us what happened from your side of the story."

Prince Joffrey was pale as he began to recount his own side of the story, albeit his was markedly different and unlike Arya, he could do everything but look at their father right in the eye. Caspian couldn't believe it, if he was going to lie, the list he could do was look at the person he was lying and try to make the lie as believable as possible.

Looking around the way he was doing just wouldn't help anyone believe him.

After Joffrey was done, the king rose from his seat, "What am I suppose to make of this? He says one thing, she says another." Robert's eyes immediately locked onto Caspian's, "What do you make of it?"

That had managed to catch Caspian of guard. He didn't think that his father would ask his opinion. He knew that probably out of all his siblings, he was the closest with his father, maybe because of the hair, or because he knew how to swing a sword correctly or maybe because of hundreds of other reasons, but he never expected his father to ask him for his reason.

"Well," Caspian began after collecting himself, "It's rather obvious Joffrey's lying."A silence went through the room and Caspian looked around the room, "What? You have to be blind and deaf to not notice he was lying. He couldn't look at the king in eye at all when he spoke, and really Joffrey? A bite, what the fuck? Are you that much of a wimp that you make such a fuss over a thing? You still have an arm don't you?"

Caspian wasn't at all that surprised when their mother stepped up to protect his older brother. She always favoured Joffrey over the rest of her children, even when Joffrey was in the wrong, it would always end up being either his, Tommen's or Myrcella's fault, "That _bite_ could leave scars. Don't you care about your brother?"

"I do, he's my brother, whether I like him or not, I still care about him." Caspian returned evenly, "But really? I could be doing better things with my time than stand here listen to him whine over a soft injury. I hope it does leave scars, at least it will serve to toughen him up some more. If he's going to whine about soft things in his life, how does he expect to lead his armies in battle in the future when he's king?" He looked back to his father, "Frankly father, I would just forget this entire incident ever happened, but at the very least, I would suggest that the last direwolf be sent back to Winterfell. My brother has a fond habit that never ends well when it comes to animals." He finished off coldly as he eyed his brother who flinched at the ice in the voice and looked away.

Robert narrowed his eyes at his dark-haired son before turning to his old friend and comrade in arms, "Well you had the boy Ned. Your girl is free of no wrongdoing and I would listen to his advice."

Ned slowly nodded his head before bowing, "As you wish, Your Grace."

Caspian watched as Arya was led out of the tent with her father and soon enough Robert also left the tent followed by everyone else leaving only him, his mother and brother. He glanced in the direction of the two blondes and bowed his head, "By your leave mother." He turned and made to leave.

"Caspian," He stopped and turned to look at his mother who was looking at him with nothing more than an icy visage on her beautiful features and an smouldering ice within her eyes. He could also see something else behind that ice but what, he couldn't tell, "Aren't you going to apologize?"

Caspian blinked before realising what she meant, "Why should I?" He asked, "Father asked me what I thought and I told him what was on my mind. Joffrey was lying and I simply told him so."

"I was not!" Joffrey blazed heatedly, glaring at his brother, "I was not lying and then you went and embarrassed me in front of everybody."

Caspian then glared back at his brother, a glare that startled his older brother. He held up one finger before speaking, "One, you were lying, everyone here knew it, I simply called you on it." He lifted another finger so that he was raising two now, "Two, if you don't want to be embarrassed in front of everybody, then stop doing embarrassing things you fucking idiot. You're going to be king, hells, I don't even need to be around for you to embarrass yourself, you do that a lot by yourself already." Joffrey had an affronted look about him but Caspian didn't care. Instead, his eyes then shot to the other person in the room, his mother and gave her a stern look. He pointed at Joffrey, "He turned out this way because you coddled him too much, I don't know why, but it happened because you did!" Cersei had a look of surprise on her face at how her son had spoke to her.

With his piece done, the dark-haired prince left the tent, leaving his brother to his fuming and his mother to her own thoughts.

* * *

**AN: Yes! It's a trueborn son story! Why shouldn't it? I love those stories! Especially when they have the anathema to Joffrey who goes around making him feel like an idiot. But this won't be a curb stomp or anything, I plan on making this a proper fic. Not everything will go in our hero's way, who knows, he might even end up dead at the end of this tale, and with him the Baratheon line of kings! But you don't know what to expect.**

**I plan on deviating from canon on some major plot points. Already have ideas on how I could work my story around, I think you guys are going to enjoy it.**

**Maj~~~~~~~~~~or Plot Points! MA~~~~~~~~~JOR!**

**So how was it? Comments, questions? Give me whatever you want. It's my first story so I wouldn't mind any constructive criticisms. No flames though, they just serve to do nothing but make me want to crawl into a hole and cry myself to sleep.**

**I guess you have questions about how Joffrey and Caspian are twins but look nothing alike. It's simple really, in extremely rare cases when it concerns twins, sometimes, the stork will get its order of twins mixed up and carry one baby from one donor and another from a different donor. I should know, I have two friends who are twins but are half-brothers genetically :L**

**I'm sure you can guess who the donor of Caspian is, you're all intelligent people.**

**I was rather confused about the whole thing also.**

**Well, byebye, leave a review! **

**TheForeverKing**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Fire and Ice/Game of Thrones_

* * *

No Place Like Home

It took another month to return all the way to the capital. His father would often complain during the journey that it would have been faster if they didn't need to have brought the carriage that carried his mother and younger siblings with them. Caspian would have agreed with that, the wheels of the carriage had broken far too many times for his liking during the entire foray.

The rest of the journey had been without incident apart from what had happened at Castle Darry. Joffrey had sullenly retreated into the carriage with their mother for the rest of the journey.

Even though he shouldn't have, Caspian had ended up joking with the other riders in the procession about the whole ordeal. It was certainly something, seeing the future king be a petulant child, although it did give worries about what he would be like in the future.

Eventually, the sight of the capital and the Red Keep loomed in the horizon. They entered through the Gate of the Gods and their procession, just like it had attracted attention when they had left more than two months ago among the smallfolk, it had attracted attention once more as the people lined the streets to catch a glimpse of the king.

Caspian had an inkling that the smallfolk loved him more than his father, but that was just a nagging thought in the back of his head. It wasn't as if some waved banners of black and gold with his personal sigil of a black charging, crowned stag on a field of gold. He barely spend any prolonged periods of time in King's Landing, his time mostly divided between Storm's End and Casterly Rock.

He had barely entered the confines of the Red Keep itself when Caspian found himself and the new Hand of the King summoned for a small council meeting. Curious, he had gone along with the Warden of the North towards the council chambers that were located behind the throne room.

The second prince had to go the rest of the way alone when his Uncle Jaime had decided to stay back and talk with Lord Eddard in private. Caspian could make a guess as to what was going to be talked about but the subject was one he was rather divided on himself so he just let it be.

When he entered the council room, he found that the other councilors were already seated and awaiting for the newest hand of the king. He managed to allow a small smile to come across his lips that seemed utterly genuine when he noticed someone he recognised, "Uncle Renly." He greeted with a bow, "It's been a while."

The long haired man who shared much of his father's looks when he was young stood up from his seat and returned the smile as he made towards Caspian, a smile that the prince was able to tell was just like his, not at all genuine, "Indeed it is." He returned as he hugged his nephew which the Baratheon prince returned, "I hope you haven't been driving Edric too hard...or burned down Storm's End in my absence."

"Edric might curse me for bossing him around, but I think it puts some character into him." The second prince remarked as he released the hug, "I've been your quasi-sort of-acting Lord Paramount of the Storm Lands since I was eight, the castle and the region are still standing aren't it?"

Renley then began to lead him towards the table where the rest of the councillors were sat, each one of them looking at the young prince, "No doubt to your excellent management skills of course, which I'm rather grateful for."

Caspian laughed, "I didn't manage anything, all I did was entertain whatever guests that arrived at your castle whenever I was in the region." And considering his status as Prince and plausible future Lord Paramount of the region itself, it seemed as if the moment he had stepped foot in Storm's End, the various lords of the region would be greeting him the next day in hopes of gaining his favour or better yet, introducing him to some of their daughters just to be courteous or better yet, holding an absurd amount of feasts were he was invited during his time there.

He didn't know which was worse, Casterly Rock where he was left to the mercies of his grandfather or the Stormlands were he was sort of left to the mercies of the Storm Lords. He had to admit though, the Storm Lands had a certain appeal to them, being the ancestral homelands of the Baratheon non-withstanding.

"So why was I summoned?" Caspian eventually asked when he reached the table, Renley moving from his side to return back to his seat, "I doubt I have done anything that could garner the attention of esteemed lords such as yourself."

A small plump, bald man with some effeminate features loved, "Oh please young Prince," The man spoke, his voice soft and gentle like that of a woman, "Not all of us who seat on this council are lords."

Caspian smiled at the man, dressed in fine robes of silk in somewhat outrageous colours, "My apologies Varys, I forgot that you preferred not to be referred as a lord."

"Mostly because I am no lord of course my prince." The master of whisperers returned evenly, an unctuous smile on his lips.

The smile best served to unnerve Caspian but he was able to control himself well enough not to show it. It was always better to never show a sign of weakness within the walls of the Red Keep was merely asking for trouble. He should know, he had grown up within the walls of this castle for the better part of eight years.

The Red Keep was a den of all sorts of sharks. Fear, unease or any other such emotion was the equivalent of blood for the people that called this castle home.

"Since you are going to be here for a while Prince Caspian," A man with sharp features and short black hair, cut smartly and close with a similarly trimmed beard that showed the first signs of greying spoke with a small smile on his face. Petyr Baelish or Littlefinger as he was less known by, "You might as well take a seat." He motioned towards the seat Caspian was resting his hands on.

The Prince raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "It's a council seat."

"That it is." Littlefinger said, his head nodding in agreement, "And its empty."

Caspian looked at the man, noticing the smile on his face, the small mockingbird pin stuck to his dark purple tunic. His eyes then travelled to the seat before the man's words rang throughout his head once more, "...Where's Uncle Stannis?"

Littlefinger smiled at the question, "Unfortunately, Lord Stannis retreated to Dragonstone some time ago and we haven't been able to contact him since."

An old man, with sparse white hair that ran around his spotted, balding head and led into a long white beard that reached down to his chest raised a finger that had thin skin clinging to it to point at the seat, "Before your lord father, the King left for Winterfell, he decreed that you will replace your uncle on the council as the master of ships until Lord Stannis returned." He said, his voice slow, raspy holding wisdom behind the words spoken.

The dark haired prince frowned before sighing as he pulled out the chair and took it, "If my lord father says so, then I will do as he asks." He said with a slight sigh as he accepted his fate. He hoped that his uncle would return from Dragonstone soon, he didn't particularly want to stay in the council, it meant prolonged periods of time with people he would like to keep at arm's length, and his uncle.

His relationship with his father's youngest brother was distant although they never showed it in public. In public, Renley was a doting uncle and in private they would keep themselves away from each other. The reason for the distance between them being the reason that he was most likely to inherit Storm's End and the Stormlands when he came of age. He was rather sure that his lord father also had that intent.

Caspian didn't particularly think that was his fault, if his uncle had actually tried to find himself a wife and given her a child, then his father would probably never ask for his seat. His father was many things, but he was not cruel enough to strip his brother of his family's seat if he was with child and wife.

But then again, he might not also inherit the Stormlands, as his grandfather had taken him as something of a part-time ward at Casterly Rock when he was seven years of age. He had remembered that as one of the few times that his mother had been particularly fierce about as she argued heatedly with his grandfather about taking him as a ward and potential heir to the Rock.

The door to the chamber eventually opened and in entered the new Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North, "Excuse me my lords," He said as he walked towards his seat at the front of the table, raising an eyebrow when he noticed Caspian among the gathered advisors. The second prince noticed the look and gave a small, jovial wave with a shrug of the shoulders soon after, Ned decided to put that to one side as he took his seat, "I apologise for being late." He looked around and counted, including himself, six small council member, "Where is Ser Barristan? Is he not the Lord Commander?"

Varys gave that smile of his in Ned's direction, "Ser Barristan is the Lord Commander, but due to his previous relationship with the last king, it was best thought that he should not be put on the council."

Ned's eyes widened at that in surprise, "Is that so Lord...?" He trailed off at the end, waiting for a name.

"Varys." The plump effeminate looking man said with a soft, slimy smile on his face, "And I am no lord."

Ned nodded before he gave greetings to the other lords and he received them in the end. Caspian was rather interested in the fact that the master of coin, Littlefinger was well acquainted with Lady Stark from his childhood and that he had once fought a duel for her hand from Ned's older brother and had lost, resulting in a reminder in the form of a scar that went from navel to shoulder.

Setting himself into his seat, Ned wringed his arms out in front of him, "So what are the matters for today my lords?"

Varys revealed a scroll from the folds of his long sleeves and passed it on down to the Hand, "The king instructs to stage a tournament to celebrate your appointment as Hand of the King."

Caspian relaxed into his seat, "Another one?" He asked, his voice dull and not surprised at all at the request despite this being the first time he has had of it. His father did love tourneys and he should have known that he would hold such a tourney for his old friend.

Robert had held a tourney for Caspian in celebration of him becoming a knight...a month after the last one.

Ned looked down at the scroll and began to read off aloud the winning prizes for the winners, "Forty-thousand gold dragons for the champion, twenty-thousand to the runner up, twenty-thousand to the winner of the melee and ten thousand for the winner of the archery."

Grand Maester Pycelle turned his head slowly towards Littlefinger, "Can the treasury bear such expenses?"

"I'll have to borrow it." Littlefinger replied evenly, a smile on his face, "The Prince's family will accommodate I suspect, we already owe the Lannisters three million gold dragons, what's another ninety-thousand?"

Caspian nearly choked on air, "We are three _million _in debt!?" He said quickly, his eyes widened in surprise at such a thing. He looked towards Ned and couldn't notice but see that from his expression, he might as well have stolen the words right from his face, "How?"

Littlefinger looked in the direction of the prince with an even smile on his face, a smile that showed that he was rather amused by the whole thing, "No, I'm saying we are six million gold dragons in debt. Three million to your mother's family my Prince, and three million to the Iron Bank of Braavos, Mace Tyrell, Tyroshi cartels and the Faith." He listed off rather casually despite the meaning and depth of what the man was saying.

Ned couldn't believe it the more and more he heard from Littlefinger. When he had left King's Landing and the Seven Kingdoms in the care of his old friend Robert and foster father Jon, the coffers had been overflowing with gold. Say what you will about Aerys Targaryen, but he was prudent if anything when it came to keeping the treasury filled to the brim, "How could this happen?" He asked, no, he demanded to know. This was not a simple matter, not even a laughing one, so he was rather unnerved by the look on Littlefinger's face.

"The master of coin finds the money, the King," Littlefinger began to say, the small smile never leaving his face as he looked at Ned, "_And _the hand spend the money." His voice calm and even, never faltering despite the situation.

Caspian was still rather skeptical about the whole situation, "I doubt Jon would have allowed such reckless spending." He interjected, his face even apart from the small thin line his lips made as he was deep in thought, "My lord father might be a reckless man, but Jon was one of the few people he listened to."

"Jon Arryn gave clear, prudent advice to the king." The grand maester's voice floated into the conversation, "But his Grace never took it into consideration."

Caspian could only sigh as he brought a hand to rub the incoming headache he knew that was coming.

"Counting coppers he called it." Renley chimed in, his tone holding an inflection to it, "Something he was never good at."

Ned immediately began to roll up the scroll back-up, "I will talk to Robert about this. This is an extravagance we can't afford."

Caspian leaned into his chair as he sighed, "I doubt my father is going to listen." If Jon couldn't reign in his outrageous spending, he doubted even his best friend would be able to do such a thing. It seemed that his father was equally as strong willed as his mother, "The Grand Maester said so himself didn't he? My lord father didn't listen to Jon, so in case he doesn't listen to you Lord Stark, we should at least begin making plans about the entire business."

Ned looked towards the second prince before seeing some truth to his words, "Very well. We should make plans then, only plans. We are not setting anything into stone yet." He rose from his seat, "Excuse me my lords, I have only arrived and there are things I have to attend to."

"Yes." Renley said as he slid his chair back and also made to stand up, "I think it would be best to let Lord Stark and my nephew get themselves settled before we start beginning settling matters of the realm."

Ned gave a small bow of the head, "Thank you my lords."

XxX

(Couple of Days Later)

"So we aren't going to Storm's End?" Edric asked as he stood in front of Caspian, a sword in hand, his hands and arms covered in metal gauntlets and his vision reduced to stripes due to his helmet.

The knight he was apprenticed to stood in front of him in the dressed in the same manner as him without the helmet merely nodded his head, "Yeah," He replied as he moved forward and struck at the knight-in-training, his blade slow to give the boy a chance to defend himself, "Not for a while at least."

Edric did well protecting himself from the onslaught he was put underneath, but he knew that his old half-sibling was taking it easy on him. One part of him felt insulted whilst the other felt gratitude knowing that he would surely suffer badly in terms of injury if Caspian attacked him with his full abilities.

"How long is a while?" The young bastard asked as he was pushed back towards the boundaries of the ring they were practicing in. His voice held some trepidation to it when he spoke.

Caspian frowned but quickly schooled his features when he sensed the trepidation within his younger brothers' voice, "I can send you back ahead to Storm's End if you want." He offered, "I know you don't want to stay here for long..._I _don't want you to stay here for long." He feared for his half-siblings safety. He had come to love the boy as much as he loved Mycerlla and Tommen when he first visited Storm's End.

When his father had knighted him, he had taken him as his squire since he spoke of becoming a great warrior much like their father was. His mother had been against him taking his bastard brother as a squire and his father too although he didn't voice it as much as his mother, but he had done so nonetheless.

Edric was one of the reasons why he never did spend any prolonged amounts of time in the capital except for a couple of months at a time to visit Tommen and Myrcella. He had once heard rumours about what his mother had done to a pair of bastard twins back in Casterly Rock who his father had sired.

He never paid any attention to them and rumours were rumours, but they started for a reason, even if they were grossly over exaggerated, gods, he hoped they were grossly over exaggerated. He was also acutely aware of how his mother treated bastards.

He knocked the thirteen year old squire out of the ring and onto his backside but he was quick to get to his feet. Edric soon rentered the ring and rushed for the starting spot which was located solely in the middle, "No," He said with a shake of the head, "I'm your squire aren't I? I'll stay."

Caspian was rather impressed by his half-siblings bravery, he knew for a fact that his lady mother terrified him, "Are you sure?" He asked as this time, he beckoned him to come attack him instead of stay on the defensive.

If it wouldn't have proven distractive, Edric would have nodded, but he merely spoke this sentiment as he traded sword strikes with his older brother, "I'm sure. If I'm going to be a knight, I can't be scared of something now can I?"

"Well, my lady mother can be quiet terrifying in her own way." Caspian mused as he side-stepped an overhand swing that unbalanced Edric. He then promptly kicked the legs out from underneath him, making him fall to the ground, "You shouldn't sell yourself like that. Only go for such attacks when you are sure you have your opponent in worn out and tired, thus unable to dodge."

Edric pushed himself to his feet before nodding as he took off his helmet, "If you say so." He said as he began to take off the gauntlets. He made towards the side were the quartermaster was located with Caspian at his side, "Are you going to take part in the Hand's Tourney?"

Caspian's nose scrunched up slightly in thought as he thought about it, his hair shaggy mane of hair swaying back and forth with each step he took, "Maybe, I haven't thought about it."

"Oh please do!" The long-haired bastard brother of the second prince said, his eyes wide and sparkling, "I haven't seen you in a tourney. The last one you participated in, I was too ill to come see!"

The lone lilac eye glanced down at the bastard from the corner of his eye, his head never once turning away from in front of him, "And why is that again?" He asked as they neared the quartermaster.

Edric laughed in a sheepish manner as he tried to play it off, "It wasn't my fault." He said weakly as they reached the quartermaster and began to return the weapons and armour that they had requisitioned from the armory.

"Of course it wasn't." Caspian said, a certain and noticeable level of dryness in his voice as he spoke, "I had to find another squire at the last minute." It was a good thing he was a prince, he had no shortage of volunteers when he had asked.

The blue-eyed bastard looked away in something of a childish pout on his face, "I said I was sorry."

Caspian smirked in amusement before ruffling his younger brother's hair, "I was joking Edric. Now try not to get ill this time, I'll need my faithful squire to be around to put me into my armour."

"You mean help you _into_ your armour." Edric rectified as he removed the offensive hand away from his hair. He started walking with Caspian whilst trying to smooth down his hair from the mess that his older brother had made it, "Why are you so lazy?"

"I'm not lazy," Caspian said with a slight yawn, "I lack motivation."

Edric didn't understand, "Isn't that the same thing?"

Caspian smiled down at his brother, an amused look about him, "It's a completely different thing little brother. I will try my best and do it earnestly to teach you the difference."

By the looks of it, Edric still seemed rather confused about the difference between being lazy and lacking in motivation to do much in life. So to stop the conversation from going forth anymore and thus result in him suffering from a headache, he silently nodded his head in agreement with whatever his brother said.

They soon arrived outside the barracks were Asher was merely sitting leaning against a wall. The two boys made their way towards him and as they got closer, Caspian noted that his sworn shield's hair was slightly tousled and out of place more than usual.

It didn't take long for the prince to figure out why his hair was so. He shook his head as they walked past him, Asher pushing himself off the wall and seamlessly falling into step with the two, "So who was it?" The dark-haired prince asked as they made their way towards the Red Keep.

Asher turned his head slightly to look at his charge, a curious gleam shining in his eyes, "Who was who exactly?" He asked, although the inflection in his voice already told that he had a guess or already knew what was being talked about.

Caspian smiled easily at his sworn shield and oldest friend, well, he's oldest sort of friend, he could never tell with the man. All he knew was that he did his job whenever it came to protecting him from hidden blades, although he had yet to know of an instance where someone was actively trying to kill him. He liked to think that he was a friendly and likeable person and thus had yet to make any enemies of any sort, "A serving girl? Or maybe a handmaiden this time? I do know how you love to mix it up whenever we come to King's Landing."

"Maybe both." Edric chimed in.

Caspian pushed him lightly on the head, "This is a conversation for adults, you stay out of this."

The bastard that bore the name Storm stuck out his tongue in a childish fit, "You aren't even an adult yet."

"But I will be in a few moons time." He countered, rather pleased with himself, "Maybe then lord father would gift me with Storm's End and everything else that comes with that castle."

Asher snorted in amusement, "Or your grandfather would convince your father not to do such a thing so you can inherit Casterly Rock." The sellsword pointed out, his eyes looking on into the distant, unfocused but sharp nonetheless, "I would prefer the Rock, think of all the gold."

At the mention of gold, Caspian cringed as he realised becoming the Lord of Casterly Rock was a very real thing that might occur. His grandfather held sway over his father in form of the loans he had made to them and he might be spiteful enough to renege on them if his father gave him the lordship of the Stormlands.

"I prefer the Stormlands to be honest." Caspian admitted with a slip of the tongue, "I love the rains and the storms."

Edric had a smile on his face as he looked up to his older brother, the brother that actively recognised him. Joffrey looked at him with nothing more than disdain and scorn, the same looks that the queen gave him. Tommen and Myrcella were nicer but they both followed after their mother whenever she was around, it was just when they were alone with Caspian did they treat him far better.

They actually talked to him rather than ignore him, and they didn't give him any stares or looks, "That's just the Baratheon blood in you talking." The young boy mused.

Caspian chuckled, "Maybe."

"Gol~d." Asher drawled from the side, reintroducing himself into the argument, "Think of the gold. You would be the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms until you bite it. Your brother would be practically kneeling at your feet if he ever needed some of that gold."

"Joffrey doesn't kneel." Caspian cut in, a small sliver of amusement in his voice at the thought, "He'll never kneel to anyone, I don't think anyway." Caspian didn't even bother telling Marko that Casterly wasn't as attractive as it seemed to him anyway. Apart from him, his grandfather and granduncles, no-one else knew that Casterly Rock hadn't mined any gold in the past year.

...Varys probably knew though, the eunuch knew just about everything, even before things happen. But the man was human, not some omniscient god, there were some things he didn't know. It all depended on how hard someone worked on hiding their dirty laundry.

The best way to hide something was to simply leave it out in the sun for all the world to see, people would just disregard. Humans had a habit of disregarding or ignoring things that were right in front of them.

It was like the old saying, ignorance was bliss. Either that, or people wouldn't be able to make head or tails of someone willingly airing out a secret to the masses.

"Hm," Asher hummed as he stroked his chin, "You might have a point there. I admit, I wouldn't mind seeing your brother kneel, just even once, might teach him some humility."

Caspian smirked in amusement, "I like to think Uncle Tyrion teaches him some humility whenever he slaps him."

"Ah yes," The Dornishman said with a throaty chuckle lurking behind his words, "Getting slapped around by a dwarf might actually have some profound effect on one's pride wouldn't it?"

The mismatched-eyed prince gave him a light hit to the shoulder, "I would prefer it if you wouldn't call my uncle a dwarf."

Asher shrugged his shoulders uncaringly, his voice even and dull as he spoke, "He is what he is."

XxX

"It's the Hand's Tourney that's causing all the trouble my lords." The Commander of the City Watch also known as the Gold Cloaks reported as he stood in front of the small council, his gold cloak stooping behind him to the back of his knees, his helmet held beside him at his hip.

Caspian couldn't help but be able to compare the man's features to that of a frog. He was a rather stout man that he couldn't help but wonder how he had been able to rise to such a position within the ranks of the Gold Cloaks, with jowls on his face and was built like a keg.

"The King's tourney," Ned corrected, wincing as he said so, "I assure you, the Hand wants no part in this matter."

"Call it what you will my lords but Knights have been arriving from all over the realm to participate and with them, for every knight we get two freeriders, three craftmens, six men-at-arms, a dozen merchants, two dozen whores, and more thieves than I dare guess." The man stopped shot for breath before speaking once more, "This cursed heat had half the city in fever to start, and now with all of these visitors...last night we have a drowning, a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters, a rape, three knife fights and many more other such crimes."

"And I do believe you lot found a woman's head floating in the Rainbow Pool in the Great Sept?" Caspian questioned, that had made quite the round throughout the Keep and the capital.

The commander nodded his head, "Yes and we have yet to even identify the poor woman. We have no idea where she came from."

"Or where the rest of her is." Caspian finished off for the man with the rather morbid thought.

The commander nodded his head once more, "Yes my Prince, exactly."

Varys let out a shudder at the thought, "How dreadful." He commented, his voice quaint but yet lacking any feeling of solemn.

Renley was less sympathetic to the man's plight as he looked at him, a stern expression on his face, "If you can't keep the king's peace Janos, maybe I should find someone else who should." He half threatened, half suggested.

The stout man looked affronted as his bald plate started reddening as he puffed up his chest, "Aegon the Dragon himself couldn't keep the peace. I need more men."

"How many men do you have in your command at the moment?" Caspian asked, his eye raised in curiosity.

"Two thousand men my Prince."

A wry grin managed to form itself on Caspian's face, "You can't really blame Janos for that Uncle Renley. Two thousand men to try and keep the peace in a city filled with at least 500,000 thousand souls? That's a tall task."

"Caspian has a point." Ned interjected into the meeting, his voice even and grim, his face holding a frown upon its weathered features, "How many men do you need commander?"

"As many as possible my lord."

"Hire fifty new men." Ned said, "Lord Baelish will see that you get the coin for it."

Littlefinger was rather surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow in surprise, "I will?"

Ned nodded his head, "You managed to find the funds for this entire spectacle. I'm sure you can find more for fifty more guards."

"Or he might not have to." Caspian interjected.

The small council turned their heads to him in curiosity, "How do you mean Prince Caspian?" Varys asked, "I see no other way to get the needed men to keep the king's peace."

"I'll lend you some of my men." He offered with a shrug, "I've got a company of three hundred with me, a hundred knights and the rest two hundred guardsmen. All they are doing is sitting around doing nothing, I wouldn't mind lending you some of them."

Littlefinger smiled at him, that same mocking smile of his, "That's quite the contingent you have their Prince. I doubt even your brother has the same amount of a dedicated following as a hundred knights and guardsmen."

Once again, Caspian shrugged, an action he was starting to do a lot more these days, "I'm not my brother. I like to think of myself vastly more superior in every facet." He mused as he turned his attention back to the frog-faced man known as Janos Slynt, "I'll lend you a hundred of my guardsmen. If you need more, you can just come to me."

Ned gave Caspian a nod of thanks, "And I'll lend you twenty of my household swords to serve with the guards until the crowds have left." He said as he turned back the commander of the gold cloaks.

"All thanks my lords." Janos Slynt said, bowing to the front of the council, "Thank you my lords, I shall put them to good use."

Ned sighed as he turned to the other small council members, "As soon as this is done, the better I can sleep." It was rather obvious that Ned Stark didn't particularly view this entire spectacle in a good light. He would have felt much better about it if it was stopped being referred to as the 'Hand's Tourney' as if he actually wanted such an event.

"Things like this aren't so bad." Caspian said with a sigh as he leaned forward onto the table, folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on them like a pillow, "They can be a rather good source of money...if popular enough of course."

"The Prince is correct my lord Hand," Pycelle said, stroking his long white beard, "The realm prospers from such things. It gives the chance for some to earn glory and people recite from their woes."

"And like the Prince said, put many a coppers into the pocket." Littlefinger chimed in, the same smile on his face, "The inns are full, the whores are walking bowlegged and their pockets jingling with each step."

Caspian looked at the man in amusement, he had such strange euphemisms. One could seemingly count on him to talk in a manner that they wouldn't expect from someone of his position.

Lord Renly laughed, "We're fortunate my brother Stannis is not here. He once proposed to ban brothels, Robert certainly took a dislike to that. If truth be told, I sometimes wonder how he managed to get that ugly daughter of his-,"

Caspian frowned but quickly schooled his features once more at the reference towards Shireen. Renly spoke as if the girls' disfigurement was her fault, it was not as if the young girl asked to be infected by greyscale when she was nothing more than a babe, '_Who talks of their kin like that?_' He thought to himself. He knew the Baratheon brothers weren't exactly on the best of terms, but there was no need for what he had said.

"-He goes to his marriage bed like a man who marches off to war, grim and dour faced, prepared to do his duty." Lord Renly finished off much to the laughter of the others except for Ned and Caspian.

"Speaking of Lord Stannis," Ned spoke after the laughter had died down, "I was meaning to enquire when he was to make his way back from Dragonstone?" His eyes flickered towards Caspian, "I do not mean to be rude my Prince, it is just I have some matters I want to talk to him about."

The dark-haired prince merely waved the man's concern away from him, "It's alright, I have been wondering that myself. The sooner my uncle comes back to retake his seat the better it is for all of us. He is the one with the experience when it comes to the seas."

"He might return when all the whores have been scourged to the seas." Littlefinger said, provoking another round of laughter.

Ned sighed as he rose from his seat, "I have heard enough about whores for today, until the morrow my lords." He said as he left the council chambers through the door.

The other council members rose from their seats to follow the Hand in leaving the council chambers, "Such a stern man isn't he?" Littlefinger mused as the group of men made for the door.

"Reminds me much of my brother." Lord Renly mused as he stroked his chin in thought, and judging by the small smile on his lips, in amusement as well. He looked down at his nephew, "I'm surprised you didn't turn so dour during your stay in his home."

Caspian had a small, even smile on his face as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black coat, "I was far too lazy and unmotivated to become such a person. But the Lord Stark is merely a serious man, nothing so bad about being serious. But he does know how to have fun, he just knows when it's time to have fun and when it's time to do his duty."

Littlefinger laughed, "Well, I guess that's all we can ask for. I do believe I have worked far more than I thought I would in these past few weeks."

As they entered the throne room, Caspian caught sight of the Iron Throne. He looked at it and imagined himself sitting on it for just a mere moment, a moment that soon vanished as he laughed to himself.

He would make a bad king, he was lazy and unmotivated and the Seven Kingdoms would fall to ruin, but then again, compared to Joffrey, he was the better alternative, but then again, if the gods had wished for him to sit upon that ugly and extremely uncomfortable chair, they would have made sure that he had been the first to slip from his mother's legs instead of Joffrey.

XxX

(With Sansa)

Sansa had been excited ever since she had learned that the King was hosting a tourney in honour of her father becoming his Hand. She had marked down the days every morning as she woke up, eagerly awaiting the day when the tourney would be held.

She could finally see all of those noble knights on horseback in resplendent armour that shone and glinted in the sun, the same sort of armour she had seen within her dreams and daydreams.

She, her friend Jeyne and Septa Mordane were sat among the high lords and ladies and for such a fitting occasion, she had dressed beautifully for that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair.

She held her breath in wonder as the knights rode out onto the field, all seven of the Kingsguard except for Ser Jaime were dressed in scaled armour the colour of milk, their cloaks white as snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well but beneath that, he wore a golden armour shined from head to foot, his helmet that of a roaring lion.

Even his sword was gold too!

Then she had held back her breath when she had seen the biggest man she would ever see in her life. He was so big she wondered how the horse that carried him was able to carry him. He heard people say that he was Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides and she couldn't help but agree with them, the man was certainly a mountain. She didn't know people could be that big, even Greatjon Umber wasn't that big.

Sansa took a liking at the strange and wondrous sigils she saw on show each knight held in their hands. A field of nightingales, bales of wheat, apples, backgrounds of red, purple, gold and white with even more varieties when it came to the border.

It was when observing them that the bugles rang out, the crowd who were watching took their seats and competitors rode of their lists. Sansa sat in the middle of her companions, Septa Mordane to her left and Jeyne to her right.

She watched as the Royal family sat in the Royal box her eyes immediately catching onto the beautiful golden hair of her beloved and betrothed Prince Joffrey. It was when they had sat down did she notice that her old friend Caspian wasn't among his family in the royal box.

She wondered for her friend that had stayed with them for a short year before her eyes were once more attracted to the grounds below when the competitors were called out.

Sansa finally got to see all those who would be competing. They were spread out into two lines, one at the other side of the field and the others at the other side. Some were dressed in full armour and the others removing their heads to see their faces, from the young Ser Hugh to the monstrous Ser Gregor.

One knight caught her eye who rode a steed as black as the night and his armour was also black in colour with gold trimmings. His shield bore a sigil of a gold charging stag in a field of black.

She heard gasps and murmurs among the lords and ladies as they pointed towards the knight, 'It's the Prince!' She heard along cries of the 'Black Prince!' and 'Prince Caspian!'

She had gasped at that. She had heard her brothers say that Caspian had been knighted but she had thought them only joking but apparently, they were speaking true.

When she had first learned back she was nothing more than a wee little girl that a prince was going to be fostered at their home, she had been giddy with excitement. She had read all the stories, she had heard all the songs and she envisioned what princes were meant to be.

Caspian had certainly not been what she had been expecting. He was neither gallant or courteous, he was lazy and had a mischievous mind, always playing pranks on her or her siblings. She never did take that much of a liking to him, even if her brothers accepted him.

And then he had left only to return but with his far more princely twin brother. Joffrey was everything she thought a prince was, he was charming and beautiful, she would admit that Caspian himself had grown to be a beautiful man, but she preferred the golden lion more to the black stag.

"For the first tilt!" The crier shouted loudly as he announced the first jousters, "Ser Andar Royce and Ser Balon Swann, the rest, to the sides."

Sansa watched as the beautiful swans and the orange of Royce remained on the field on opposite side as the others spurred their horses away. She watched with her heart in her mouth as the two knights rode in front of the royal box and bowed to the royal family, and her heart beat faster and faster when the two knights began galloping towards each other, lances out on point.

She clapped in the refined manner suiting a lady of her stature when the young Ser Balon Swann was able to knock Ser Andar Royce of his horse along, beside her, Septa Mordane and Jeyen also clapped in applause to the prince.

She then watched as the crier called out the next jousters, this time a Ser Horas Redwynne against the Black Prince himself. When his name had been called out, a hush went across the gallery as they watched the second prince ride his black as night horse to his end before readying himself.

Like the others, the two knights made their way towards the royal box and both bowed in front of the King and his family. Ser Horas bow was crisp and salute whilst Caspian's was more lazy than anything else compared to the others.

"100 gold on the prince." She heard someone behind her speak. Sansa turned her head to look behind her and saw a man with dark hair that had streaks of greyish-silver, a sharp beard and a strange smile on his face.

The man beside him snorted, "No-one would make such a fool's bet. The Prince is one of the best in the kingdom with a lance, as young as he is."

Sansa turned around, her attention back on the field, just in time to see the two knights ride towards each other. She watched with amazement as Caspian was able to knock Ser Horas of his horse with nought a tough of his opponents lance on him. He then went on to win two more bouts against knights of the kingsguard that included Ser Boros and Ser Merryn. Even his much older and experience uncle was no match for him dressed in resplendent green armour with an antlered helmet as he was sent flying to the ground.

The crowd went wild for him as they rose to their feet, clapping and whistling among the smallfolk and the highborns. The daughter of the North was horrified when she saw many ladies also on their feet clapping in applause but her attention was attracted towards the royal box where a loud guffaw and excited yelling could be heard.

She saw the king on his feet clapping and the one who was guffawing loudly and the young Prince Tommen and Princess Mycerlla giggling excitedly on their feet as they also clapped, cheering for their brother. The only one who wasn't clapping was Joffrey who sat in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest and what seemed to be a frown on his beautiful face.

Sansa had to blink. She must have imagined it, a frown didn't belong on the face of such a beautiful creature.

Caspian's victory's earned him a place in the semi-final and he gave that lazy bow of his once more to the crowd, after going around the field in a victory lap of sorts as he returned the waves from the crowd with his own waves before bowing lazily to the his family once again.

If Sansa had thought Prince Joffrey the most handsome man she had ever met, she had been wrong. Loras Tyrell was seemingly a god of beauty made incarnate, she would swear her heart had stopped when he revealed himself, dressed in shining silver armour and a steed the colour of a white cloud.

She couldn't help but blush when he approached her and gave her a flower, "Your beauty is unmatched my lady," The Knight of Flowers said, "But this flower might hold some candles to it."

She took the red rose to her chest, hugging it, "Thank you Ser Loras." She said, breathless and a blush on her cheeks. The knight cast her a smile that would have made her faint before riding off to the end of the lists to take part in his own jousts.

She smelled the luscious flower as she watched hawk-eyed on the silver-armoured knight as he won every joust he rode in. Even the famous and magnificent Ser Jaime Lannister was unseated by him and all without a scratch on that white armour of his. Sansa sat back dreamily, all the while continuing to smell the luscious scents of the flower given to her by the knight.

Then the most dreadful thing happened in one of the bouts. A young knight, Ser Hugh of the Vale was felled by Ser Gregor. He had fallen right in front of where she sat and she could hear him choking and see the blood pooling around him from the lance that had gone and pierced his neck.

She would swear that she could almost taste and smell the blood. The look in his eyes was horrible, yet she couldn't turn away.

The whole field was silent, field only with the occasional neighing of horses and the slow gurgling of the knight as he choked on his own blood as he lay there dying. Then Caspian appeared, he walked towards the knight, an even look on his face that did not betray his thoughts as he went towards the knight.

When he reached him, he kneeled at his side and Ser Hugh raised an arm to clutch a dirty hand onto the princes arm that was placed on his breastplate. Caspian said some words, but they were too quiet for her or anyone else to hear and she saw Ser Hugh try to say something but couldn't but could only eventually nod his head, which was nothing more than a slight movement.

She gasped when a dagger appeared in Caspian's hands that quickly plunged itself into the young knights heart, killing him. Her eyes were wide with shock, unable to believe what she had seen, even more so when Caspian ordered for a litter for the dead knight and someone to cover the blood.

Jeyne had been inconsolable at the sight that Septa Mordane had to take her away and like nothing ever happened, life and volume returned to the stands as the next tilts were called out.

However, soon the crowds grew restless as the day wore on and Robert called a halt to the jousts until the morrow. A great feast was held that night and she had even received a present from her darling prince who had sat beside her on the raised dais she sat along with the royal family.

Everything was going so well she couldn't believe it. It was almost like a dream.

The next day, she woke up, bathed, brushed her hair and wore the prettiest dress she could find, a different one from the day before. She broke her fast with her family, Arya being surprisingly civil instead of being the brute that she was and on they travelled to see the remainder of the tourney.

The King drew straws as to who was to go first and it was Ser Barristan against Caspian. This time, instead of a lazy bow to his firmly, the dark haired prince gave a mort serious and formal bow before riding off to his end of the field. She had heard stories of Barristan the Bold and she was sure that a knight of such renown would win the bout, but it wasn't to be as the young prince was able to knock the aged knight of his horse.

He was gracious in victory as he helped the knight to his feet before celebrating his own victory with a round around the field.

The next bout had brought fear into her eyes as she saw the monstrous form of Ser Gregor ride up to take his own place on the field against the younger and much smaller form of Ser Loras. She prayed quietly and quickly to the gods to protect the young and beautiful knight so that a fate such as that off Ser Hugh didn't afall him.

It seemed the gods were listening as Ser Loras was able to smash his lance on to the Mountain's form winning the bout but unlucky Caspian, Ser Gregor was much less courteous in defeat as he attacked Ser Loras in anger only for the Hound to intervene. The two clashed swords before King Robert ordered them to stop.

The Mountain left the field in a fury as his form lumbered towards his tent.

The final was between Ser Loras against Prince Caspian and Sansa was conflicted as to who she wanted to win, her friend or the dazzling Ser Loras? She decided it would not matter, she would cheer the victor nonetheless.

The crowd held their gasps when both knights took their positions and tension seemed to rise as they began to ride towards each other, lances struck forward ready to unhorse each other. Instead of unhorsing the other, when the two young knights clashed, they both struck each other's shields and in the process unhorsing each other at the same time.

Ser Loras desperately freed a leg from his saddle to stop him from being dragged by his horse and Caspian hit the ground and rolled to a halt before getting up soon after with a shake of the head, mostly like to clear it from the spell of dizziness he was probably suffering from the roll.

No-one cheered, the bout had resulted in a draw but both knights were the two finalists and they were the last, they would be no more. The people looked towards the royal box for the king's direction but the sound of the prince calling for his sword attracted their attention.

They watched a dark haired boy, the Prince's squire make his way towards him with a blade in a black scabbard with gold patterns. The Prince drew his sword and pointed it towards Ser Loras in a challenge.

Ser Loras accepted and called for his own sword from his squire. Before both knights engaged themselves in furious combat to determine the winner, they both looked at the King for permission.

Robert sat in silent contemplation before rising to his feet and nodding his head, giving his approval. The crowd cheered and cheered some more when the two knights met each other and engaged in a clash of steel.

Sansa watched starry eyed as the two knights did a brilliant but deadly dance of steel, switching places every now and then as they traded strikes with their swords or rammed each other with their shields. Sansa, although she knew nothing about swordplay would say that Ser Loras had more finesse in his swordplay, just a little more than Caspian, but the Prince was faster and far trickier than she thought.

He used all manner of things to his advantage in the fighter, his body, his shield, his sword and even his head if the situation warranted. It somewhat gave her the notion that he had been in a real battle before as he was much more assured and it showed as to how he approached the battle.

Sansa held a gasp when Caspian was barely able to dodge a swing that was aimed for his head but found herself bringing her hands together in glee when the Prince used his shield to hit Ser Loras in the side of the leg, nearly bringing him down to one knee and then rising up to bring his shield once more to his chin.

She watched as Ser Loras body snapped backwards and bend as his head continued to fly backwards. It almost seemed like he was flying when his feet lifted off the ground before he crashed unceremoniously to the ground.

He tried to quickly get up, but Caspian was upon him as he held a sword at his gorget.

Ser Loras helmeted head looked down at the sword before looking up at its wielder, "I yield." He declared loudly enough for the people to here.

The crowd roared as people rose to their feet, clapping madly, chants of '_Prince Caspian!_' or '_The Black Prince!_' floating through the field in a thunderous volume as Caspian helped his opposite to his feet.

Caspian waved at the crowd along with Ser Loras as they made their way to the royal box. Both of the knights stood in front of it and bowed, once more Caspian bowing lazily. He then found himself knocked off his feet and onto his backside as his younger brother Tommen rocketed into him.

The crowd laughed at the scene and even more when the prince picked up his younger brother over the shoulder and gave him light hearted spanks on the back before settling him down on the ground. The younger boy seemed to say something to his older brother and Caspian soon removed his full black helmet and give it to him.

A grin of amusement came onto Caspian's face as he watched his brother try it on, only for it to slide down his face, too big for him and bringing more laughs from the crowd.

At that moment, Sansa thought of her friend once more and compared him to his brother, '_Maybe...'_ The thought floated through her head before she shook her head lightly, what a silly thought.

Caspian was a stag and Joffrey was a lion.

And she wanted and loved a lion.

A beautiful golden haired lion.

* * *

**AN: Chapter two up and done. Chapter three next, will probably have it up by tomorrow afternoon or night, depends on the day.**

**Well, I hope you guys enjoy it, if you have any questions, please do leave on in a review and I'll do a shutout on the next chapter answering it.**

**Next chapter is going to be some development here and there before setting it off into the big kicker.**

**Well, I'm done here.**

**See ya.**

**TheForeverKing**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Fire And Ice/Game of Thrones_

* * *

The Game of Thrones

"My queen." Grand Maester Pycelle greeted with a small bow of the head, if he had bowed any lower, Cersei would have doubted that the aged man would have been able to raise his head back to its proper place once done.

The queen herself sat on a luxurious chair with a cup of wine in hand, "Pycelle." She greeted as she placed the cup of wine to the side, "What is it?"

The aged and withered old man set his eyes on Cersei's form and the queen felt like shuddering when she felt his eyes on her but stopped herself from doing so. She had to show she was in control here. She was sure that he was undressing her with those old eyes of his.

"It's about Lord Stark."

Cersei frowned. She knew that man was going to be a problem no doubt when he accepted that drunkard of her husband's offer to become his new Hand of the King, "What about him?" She asked, picking up her cup and taking a sip from it.

"He's enquired about the book." The maester replied.

Cersei frowned before schooling her delicate features, her mouth nothing more than a thin line, "What book?"

"The very same book Jon Arryn enquired about before he met his unfortunate end." Pycelle said as he gave a small bow of the head once more, "He might soon enough stumble upon the secret."

Cersei's eyebrows shot up in alarm, "How much does he know?" She asked, her voice a hiss like that of a rattlesnake.

The balding grand maester could only give a small shrug of the shoulders that Cersei could only notice by the slightest movement of his dark coloured robes, "I cannot say. At the moment, he seems to be only grasping at straws in the dark." _But he might eventually grasp onto the straws_ was what went on unsaid.

Cersei frowned as she waved him away, "Thank you Grand Maester, you may leave."

"As you will." Pycelle said with another bow of the head before turning around and making for the door, the links of his maester's chain silently clinking together to make a sound that was neither annoying or appreciative before he disappeared through the door, lightly closing it behind him.

Cersei didn't watch him leave, but when she heard the door closing behind him, she knew that he had left, only noticing so since her mind was deep at work. Eddard Stark had to go before he found out the truth much like Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon, but there in lay the problem, Stark wasn't being as subtle as he thought about his investigation, if he died, questions would be asked.

'_And Robert loves that man like a brother._' She laughed lightly within the confines of her chambers, '_Actually, more so than his brothers. If he dies, he would undoubtedly turn this castle and King's Landing upside down in search of the truth._' And that wasn't even considering how the North would react.

Eddard Stark had been reluctant at first to take up the position of the Hand but he had suddenly changed his tune and started singing a new song about the position. Clearly something or _someone_ had convinced him or had forced him to come to the capital and the fact that the first thing he was doing was searching for answers to Arryn's death could only lead the queen to think that Arryn's wife had a hand in that.

_Stupid whore._ Cersei thought bitterly as she spun her cup in her hand, the gentle sloshing of the wine within the cup serving to soothe her. She couldn't make a move against Eddard whilst Robert was in the city, _Or alive._

It was decided, Robert had to go. It was about time, she had taken all that she could about the man, but the death had to be accident, something that wouldn't raise questions.

She had tried to goad him into fighting in the melee so that someone might struck him dead and thus allowing her beloved Joffrey to ascend the throne and she could rule through him, she would finally be able to show her father that she was _his _daughter and that he could put faith in her instead of relying on Jaime...or that monstrous dwarf brother of hers.

Sadly, Robert did not take part and due no part thanks to Eddard Stark she was sure. Her spies had reported that he had been the one to convince her drunkard husband to stand down and not only that, but one had been close enough to listen to them talk.

She bit her lip in silent rage, how dare he say that Joffrey wasn't fit to rule? Joffrey would have made a far better king that he was and not only that, he had gone to say that he would have preferred Caspian to be the one to inherit the throne if only he had been the first to come out of womb.

...She couldn't help but agree ever so slightly that Caspian might have been slightly more fit to rule than Joffrey, but she would never allow herself to let that _man's_ son sit on the Iron Throne, even if he had been the first born.

She laughed.

Caspian had been the first born. He had been the first to slip out of her womb before Joffrey who followed minutes later. She had threatened the midwives to keep quiet that Caspian was the firstborn and with some help, those midwives who had witnessed the birth all befell various accidents and illnesses that made sure the truth stayed between herself and Pycelle alone.

Caspian...how she loathed and loved him. He had the potential to ruin them all, she had thought to kill him, it wasn't uncommon for babes to die in the world soon after their birthing, but she couldn't carry out the deed, he was her son, even if he had the wrong father, he was still her son, her black lion.

Even still, she would far prefer Joffrey on the Iron Throne than Caspian. She was sure that with her behind him, Joffrey would go on to become one of the greatest kings that has ever sat on the Iron Throne, starting a line of powerful golden haired kings. They would bare the wrong name, but it wouldn't matter. She was sure within a couple of generations, maybe even sooner, House Baratheon would go extinct, even if Caspian was left as the last, trueborn Baratheon.

Renly wasn't interested in the fairer sex, she was quite certain that he would die before leaving any sort of issue to carry on out the name and Stannins was already a problem that needed to be taken care off.

Cersei sighed as she rubbed the temple of her head, all this thinking was getting to her. She will have to come up with some way for an accident to befall Robert and then take care of Stark before he finds anything that would destroy not only herself, but her children bar one, and even her family.

If their father found out about her relationship, she was sure he would view her even lower than he viewed Tyrion.

And she couldn't have that. She would not be lower than some dwarf monster that killed their mother and should have no right to live.

XxX

Caspian

"You won the jousting and archery competition?" Arya asked, her voice skeptical at such a declaration but she also showed the skepticism on her face and body language. Her arms were crossed over her arms and one eyebrow was raised, and the other lowered.

Caspian dutifully nodded his head, his black hair bobbing up and down with each nod of the head, "Yeah." He said with a sigh, sitting across from the youngest Stark in King's Landing in the Tower of the Hand, "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because it's..." She started, trying to find the words but failing, "It-It's you!"

"Yes it's me." The dark-haired prince remarked with something of an easy smirk on his face, "What about it? I have been told repeatedly that I am rather brilliant in my own manner."

Arya shook her head, "But you're so lazy." She said, propping her elbows on a table and resting her chin in the palms of her hands, "How could you win anything?"

Caspian shrugged as he relaxed in his chair, "Lazy doesn't mean I'm bad at things. I like to think that I'm good at several other things." He said, a lazy, confident smile now on his lips as he looked at the youngest sister of one of his oldest friends, "And two of those things are knocking people off horses and hitting a bull's eye at a certain distance." He scratched his cheek in a sheepish manner as he laughed to in the same manner, "I have to admit, the Summer Islanders did give me a run for my money."

Arya still couldn't believe it as she shook her head, "So what did you win?" She asked, she was sure he would have won something in a tourney. There was always prizes to give out at such events.

The prince replied by holding up five fingers, "Fifty-thousand gold dragons."

"Oh wow, that's a lot of money." Arya let out, surprised, "Do you even need it? You are the prince, I'm sure you already have a lot of money."

Caspian shrugged with an even smile on his face, "More than most, and anyway, I put that money to good use." He said, rolling his elbow to get the blood flowing in his arm, "Like you said, I'm a prince and I hardly need it."

He noticed her raise any eyebrow, "Like what exactly?"

"That's for me to know and for you to never find out." The prince replied. He laughed when he saw the pouting, angry look that Arya gave him. He managed to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of his eye before speaking once more, "So what is this I hear about you dancing? The Arya I know doesn't do something so lady-like, like dancing."

This time, it was Arya's turn to grin widely and be snarky in her reply, "Well, as you said so yourself, that's for me to know and for you to never find out."

Caspian rolled his eyes, "As the Lady Stark wishes, next thing I know, you'll be prancing around in silk dresses, swirling the skirts around." The table jerked suddenly and the prince winced as before speaking without a tone to his voice, "Didn't hurt."

"Sure it didn't." The young girl said with a roll of the eyes.

"Where's Sansa?" Caspian asked, "I haven't seen your sister in a while."

Arya shrugged her shoulders uncaringly, "I don't know. She's probably doing lady stuff or with the queen or something like that. I don't really care."

"Well, aren't you just a caring younger sister?" Caspian mused, a small smile on his face, "Well, just be nice with your sister. If I'm not wrong, aren't wolves supposed to be all protective about other wolves in their packs?"

"Yes they are." Arya confirmed for him with a nod of the head, "But they leave the ones that drag them down behind."

"I hope that's not your personal feelings on Sansa, Arya."

Arya turned her head towards the door and saw her lord father enter the room. She quickly rushed to her feet, her chair making a loud and uncomfortable noise as it sled back, "Father!" She said quickly, startled by his sudden appearance. She then moved quickly to leave the room, "Well, I'll be going now. I might as well keep practicing my dancing."

Caspian watched her leave with a tilt of the head to the side. He slowly turned to look at his former fosterer, "She isn't really taking dancing lessons is she?" He asked as he slowly rose up to his own feet.

Lord Stark merely chuckled to himself as he walked past him, "It is not my place to say." He said before stopping. He turned around to look at Caspian who raised an eyebrow at the sudden interest in him, "Tell me Caspian," He began, "Did Jon Arryn tell you anything the day he died?"

"Jon Arryn?" The second prince repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought back to his former mentor, "Well, he told me many a things, but I couldn't make out many of the things he said. He was delirious with the fever that took him."

The Northman frowned slightly before continuing to press the issue, "Well, what did he tell you exactly?"

"Well..." The prince began as his face frowned ever so slightly in thought as he tried to recall anything the man said that he was able to understand, "I could swear that most of the time he was apologizing to me."

"Apologizing?"

Caspian could tell that had caught his old foster by surprise so he nodded his head, and continued to speak, "Yes, something about a difficult decision I would have to make." He said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"And the other?" Ned prodded.

"Something about the seed is strong. I have no idea what that meant." The prince said that was accompanied by another shrug of the shoulders. He quirked an eyebrow at the Lord Hand, "What's all this about Lord Stark?"

Caspian could see Ned's lips tighten into a thin line in thought as his brows creased onto themselves and wrinkles of thought showed on his forehead. He was clearly thinking deeply about something, maybe even debating a subject with himself, but debating the matter of the subject, Caspian didn't know.

Eventually, Ned sighed before speaking once more, "It's nothing my Prince. Forgive me for wasting your time with my questions."

There was something that Ned was keeping from him, Caspian knew that but he decided to let it go so he merely bowed, "As you wish Lord Stark. If you need me for anything, I'll be on hand." He said as he turned to leave the housing of the Hand.

Caspian made his way through the Red Keep in the direction of his chambers. Even though he spent at best two months of a year in King's Landing and the Keep in general, his room had never been given away and it always stayed the same.

Unlike his room in Casterly Rock or Storm's End, it was rather bare when it came to personal effects. It had a bed, a hearth and all the other furniture that made a room comfortable, but some could consider it empty as it didn't hold things that he could consider value that would make the room his. To him, it was just a room, a room he had stayed in for the first few years of his life when it had been deemed that he was old enough for his own room.

He hadn't even made it towards that particular chamber when he found himself facing a steward. He raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

The steward bowed his head, "Forgive me Prince, but King Robert has called for a small council meeting." He said as he lifted his head back to its proper position.

"My lord father?" Caspian repeated, his tone incredulous at such a thing. He had been back in the capital for a little over a month and had attended quite the number of council meetings, but his father had never called for one, or attended one.

The steward gave a slight nod of his head, "Yes, Your Grace." He confirmed with another tilt of the head in the motion of a bow, "I was told that it was an urgent matter that required all small council members."'

The prince nodded, "Very well, I'll head there now. Thank you." He said, dismissing the steward with a wave of the hand as he began to make his way towards the council chambers. He had to wonder what urgent matter had forced his lord father to call for a meeting, let alone attend one in person.

Due to the urgency of the summons, Caspian had walked quickly through the castle towards the chamber. When he had entered the room, he noticed his lord father sitting in his seat with a smouldering look of rage on his face, his lips pressed tightly thin on his face and the hand that lay on the small council chamber slowly clenching and unclenching in the form of a fist.

He noticed that the other councilors looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here as of this very moment and were trying their best to look as small as possible, even Ser Barristan someone who had never been on council meetings was in the room and was doing the same as the other by trying to look as small as possible. He bowed at his lord father, "Lord father." He said before going to his seat when the bearded man gave a nod of his head in acknowledgement.

He had to wince slightly when his chair scraped the floor to make a sound that reverberated throughout the deathly quiet halls of the room. He didn't need to look to know that the others had their eyes on him as he sat down and pulled himself in to the table.

He wanted to ask what was the subject of the meeting, but he figured he would learn soon enough when the Lord Hand made his appearance.

As if the gods had been answering his prayers, the distant sounds of footfalls could be heard as they made their way through the throne room and towards the council chamber, with each sound of the footfall getting louder as the person neared. The door then eventually opened to reveal that the person was indeed the new Hand of the King.

Ned seemed to be just as surprised as Caspian had been at the atmosphere in the room, although his surprise was clear on his face unlike his that he had managed to hide. He slowly made his way towards the table were all the other councillors were sat.

"My lords," Ned said slowly as he neared the table, "What is the subject of this meeting?"

Ned's eyes had never been off Robert's form which had been glaring holes through him the moment that he had walked through the door, "The whore is _pregnant_." The King seethed, spittle slowly coming out of his mouth at the amount of effort he had put into stressing the last word.

_Whore?_ Caspian thought to himself as he tried to link that name to anyone he knew. After some a quick and thorough mind scan, he eventually recalled his lord father occasionally referring to a Targaryen whore during some of his drunken episodes, _The Targaryen girl...Daenarys if I'm not wrong. _He hadn't thought of that name in a while.

"I warned you Ned." Robert said, continuing to speak, "I warned you back in the barrow lands that something like this would happen, but you didn't want to hear about it. Well, you'll hear it now, I want them dead, all of them, mother, child, and that fool, Viserys as well. Is that _plain_ enough for you?"

Caspian saw Ned's eyes shift onto the forms of every councilor, he didn't know why, but he could make a guess, to see if there was someone on the council that would side with him on the matter at hand.

The Northman's eyes then went back onto the frame of his old friend, "Robert, you can't be serious about this." He said, trying hold back the rage he was feeling about the prospect that was being talked about, "You are talking about killing a child. You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this."

Robert didn't care, "Then let it hang on my head then. I am not so blind to notice that there is a shadow of an axe hanging over my neck."

Ned bit his lip, seeing that his old friend was true in the notion that he did not care about the consequences. Caspian could see him try to think of something that would allow him to stop what was being suggested of being put into reality. Finally he spoke, "Where exactly did this information come from?"

Caspian's eyes panned in the direction of the master of whisperers. He was the only person in the room that had ears to hear something like this happening in the continent.

He wasn't proven wrong when the man gave that smile of his, "That would be me." Varys said, his powdered hands wringed together, "And I would not bring false information to the council or lie to the king."

"How exactly did you come to hold this information Lord Varys?" Ned asked, his tone icy and even his expression cold to match the icy tone of his voice.

"From Ser Jorah Mormont." The eunuch replied, a nice plump smile on his face, "He is acting in a capacity of advisor to the Targaryens."

"You bring us information from a traitor and criminals mouth?" The Warden of the North asked, anger flashing in his eyes, "How are we supposed to take it as truth?" He asked, his eyes glowering at the eunuch.

If he was unnerved by the look, Varys did not show it as he still had that slimy smile of his on his face, "Ser Jorah wouldn't even contemplate deceiving me." Varys said, confidence evident in his tone and voice, "Rely on it my lord. The Targaryen is with child."

Ned did not back down, "So you say. If we are wrong, we do not need to fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter, we need not fear. If she stillborns, we need not fear. If the child dies in its infancy, we need not fear."

"And what if it's a boy?" The King finally spoke, his eyes hadn't moved away from his old comrade-in-arms who had helped him win his throne, "What if he is a boy Ned? And if he lives?"

"The Dothraki fear water. They won't dare cross water that their horses won't drink from." Ned said succinctly, quick in his reply, "I shall fear them the day they teach their horses how to run on water."

Caspian nearly laughed at that.

Robert seemed to mull over his words before speaking, "So you tell me to do nothing until that damned dragon spawn lands on my shore with an army of screamers at it's back?" He asked, somewhat in disbelief as he leaned into his chair, "What kind of damned counsel is that?"

"That 'dragon spawn' is still within its mother's belly." Ned was quick to point out, his anger nearly reaching its zenith as he tried to control himself from shouting at his old friend, "Even Aegon did not conquer anything until he was weaned."

The sound of a boom of thunder could be heard from the room, but was in fact Robert smashing a hand down on the table in front of him, leaving a noticeable indent, "_Gods!_" The man yelled, "Have you all lost your tongues!? Will no-one talk sense into this fool!?"

Now being ordered to actually take part in the meeting, the first of the councilors to speak was his uncle Renly, "This matter seems simple enough to me. We ought to have killed both Targaryens years ago, but His Grace, my brother made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn."

Caspian had to hold back a growl as he bristled at what Renly was trying to say about Jon, _Jon Arryn knew more about the world than you do Uncle._ He thought to himself. Jon was a man of many years and he had experienced all there was to life. Wisdom came with age, Renly couldn't be saying that he was wiser than Jon, the man was still young considering everything else.

Varys was the next to speak as he cast an oily smile in the direction of Ned, "I understand where you are coming from my lord, but sometimes, those in power must do vile things for the good of the realm."

"My order serves the realm, not the king. And I have faithfully served the previous king and the current king yet I ask you this, if war were to come to these lands again, how many thousands will die? How many mothers will be ripped away from their sons only to find themselves at the ends of spear points? How many towns will burn? How many of our women will be raped by the savages?" He sighed, a sigh that more than showed the age he was feeling, "It is wiser to end the life now than let thousands more perish in the future."

"Whatever the reason or threat," Ser Barristan said as he spoke next, "The assassination of a child is wrong and I will not support it."

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," Caspian rolled his eyes at Littlefinger's euphimism. It seemed as if the man couldn't speak properly without making some dirty joke about sex or the likes, "You should just close your eyes and continue, cut her throat and be done with it."

Eventually, all the eyes in the room finally settled on the last person not to speak. Caspian closed his eyes and formalized his thoughts before speaking, "Frankly lord father, killing her will do more harm than good."

Eyebrows were raised in surprise and curiosity. Robert's eyes trained in on his dark-haired son, "Speak Caspian, what do you mean?"

The second prince nodded his head before clearing his throat to speak, "The Narrow Sea separates us away from Essos and to get across, you need a large number of ships, the more men, the more ships needed to ferry the men and supplies needed for war. That by itself is a problem, storms can occur in the sea that could lead to ships being lost at sea, and those not lost would be separated, making them easier to be dealt with." He turned his eyes towards Varys, "How big is this khalasar that the Targaryens managed to ally themselves with?"

Varys smiled, "Reports indicate from forty to one hundred thousand my prince."

Caspian merely smiled in amusement, "Then if they do sail, we won't even have to deal with the entirety of the horde. You can't cross the Narrow Sea in a day, many of the Dothraki's horses will die from dehydration and malnutrition. Forty thousand horses? Good luck trying to keep them fed, never mind a hundred thousand." He motioned towards a map of Westeros that was in the chamber, "Another point is where exactly would the host land? The eastern side of Westeros doesn't have that large of a landing site to hold such a large number of people. At best, they would have to sail around Dorne to the other side and the Redwynne and Royal Fleet would never allow that."

"And what if they land in Dorne?" Renly asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Dorne is nothing more than sand. There is a reason that most places of civilization are located at the coast near sources of water." Caspian said, facing his uncle, "If whatever Dothraki managed to survive the journey to make it towards Dorne and land there, they would have to cross the Dornish deserts and by then, they may even have to start eating their own horses to feed themselves and when they run out of water, they'll start dying. And if they manage to cross the desert, by then, we'll have fortified and reinforced the Dornish Marches and be ready to face them."

He smiled as he relaxed in his seat, "And you are all missing something rather important," Eyes were on him once more, "The Dothraki don't trust water that their horses never drink from. I doubt any of them have ever been on a boat or travelled on one and thus the vast majority or all of them will suffer from seasickness. When they land, they'll be disorganised and disoriented and let's not forget they won't be mounted on their horses. If we meet them when they are landing, at best, it would be nothing more than a massacre. The Dothraki are the best horsemen in the world, the greatest soldiers go to the Unsullied if I'm not wrong."

Littlefinger smiled that mocking smile of his, "That's all well and good, but this can all be circumvented if we kill her now."

"Unlikely." Caspian said, dismissing the notion, "My lord father started a war over a kidnapped bride. What will the Dothraki khal do when he learns that his wife and unborn child were killed because of us? Let him stay where he is, we don't need to give him a reason to actively try and kill us. And if you really want to kill someone, kill the khal. The Dothraki respect strength, not blood. If the Khal dies, forty thousand or a hundred thousand becomes zero within a manner of hours."

"No assassin will try to kill this particular khal." Varys interjected, "He's considered the strongest of them all."

The second prince just shrugged his shoulders at that news, "Then we leave him alone. Leave them be lord father, Westeros is safe and the Targaryens will watch their chances decrease with each passing moment the longer they stay there."

Robert scowled before sighing as he sat there, "Perhaps you should replace your uncle permanently in that seat. That was wise counsel. The Targaryens should remain untouched and keep a close eye on the situation in case it develops any further."

Varys nodded his head and Ned couldn't help but let a sigh of relief escape his lips. Caspian had not only just saved the kingdom, but he had also managed to save his father from himself, and he seemed to have noticed it to judging by the smug look on his face.

_Forget about a council seat,_ Ned thought as he looked at the Prince, _You should be sitting on the Iron Throne as Robert said before_. He thought to himself, making sure not to voice his thoughts as they could be construed as treasonous in nature, _You already have the respect and love of the smallfolk and highborn_.

With the subject of what to do with the Targaryens now firmly at rest, Robert ended the council but before that, Caspian had made a request that he be allowed to leave the capital for some personal business in the Stormlands.

Robert had seen nothing wrong with that and had granted him leave to take care of his business although he was rather curious as to what business his son was taking care off, Caspian had been tight lipped on the subject and merely stating that it was just business that was personal to him and that it wouldn't have any interest to the other lords.

Ned would have preferred to have the prince on hand in the capital since he was someone that he could readily say who was an ally of his, especially in a place such as King's Landing were everyone seemingly looked out for no-one other than themselves. It also wouldn't have hurt that his children would have an old friend that could take his time to visit them and socialise.

XxX

Eddard

_The seed is strong._

Those were the words that Jon Arryn had muttered to Caspian in his final hours. Caspian did not have the slightest idea what those very words meant but now, Ned knew what they meant. He couldn't believe it as he poured over the book that he had garnered from Grand Maester Pycelle, _The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children._

_Lions_. Ned thought to himself in stark disbelief, _They are all lions_. He still had a hard time believing it even though the book in front of him told him of the truth that should have been blatantly obvious to those that looked hard enough at the children of the King.

They had all seen the features of Joffrey, Tommen and Mycerlla, blonde hair and emerald coloured eyes, now he knew what it all meant. Now he knew why Jon Arryn had died and possibly why Stannis Baratheon had fled towards Dragonstone. He had come to the same conclusion as that of Jon and feared for his life, that, or he had his suspicions but enough to garner the unwanted attention of Cersei who would have had him killed to keep the secret.

He had wondered what Jon and Stannis had been doing visiting brothels and the bastard children of Robert, but now he understood. They were proof of Robert's blood, the dark hair, blue eyes and the strong, square jaw lines, much like Caspian himself.

Ned couldn't even begin to think or imagine how Robert's seed must have quickened alongside the Kingslayers to create the brothers Joffrey and Caspian, _No wonder they don't look alike._ Ned thought to himself as he slumped back into his seat, his leg throbbing in pain from the time that his horse had fallen on his leg from his conflict with the Kingslayer and his Lannister men, _They have two different fathers. Is that even possible? The gods sure love their games._

How did no-one notice such a thing? It should have been obvious at the very most, but then again, most people tend to not notice the things that are best left in plain sight, _Or they could have, but were silenced by the queen or kept it to themselves for various reasons._ Those two ideas were the most plausible but the first one also had some merit to it, after all, Ned himself had not noticed such a thing until Sansa had pointed out that Joffrey was nothing like his father, more _lion_ than _stag_.

He couldn't help but curse his fortune at such a discovery. Robert had left for a hunting expedition along with a number of knights and the court itself, leaving him in power, not that he ever took it up. And to make matters worse, Tywin Lannister or more specifically his bannerman, Ser Gregor Clegane was running rampant in the Riverlands, no doubt carrying out the orders from Tywin himself, most likely as his way to punish Catelyn for taking into custody the imp.

And the real successor to the throne had left days earlier for a personal errand in the Stormlands.

He had to be careful of his next movements now. Ned knew a little bit of warfare and he couldn't help but commend the Old Lion. It was very possible that the Mountain was nothing more than an advance party send forth to create chaos while he mustered his own forces for a full invasion of the Riverlands.

He had to send a message to Hoster Tully, his father-in-law to keep a look out on the Golden Tooth with as large a host as he could spare. He quickly penned the message, making sure that in the case Edmure caught aware of it, to make sure that he did not provoke or give an invitation to invade the Westerlands and make war.

_Although Tywin is already making war as far as many are concerned, sending out Clegane to raid the borderlands._ He thought dryly to himself. Finishing the letter, he was about to put his quill away before realising something else. He took another parchment of paper and began to write up another message, _I have to make sure that Robb is ready for war, if the worst comes to come. The bannermen and our own forces have to be ready to move._ He made sure to stress that his son doesn't call the Stark bannermen immediately, but make sure that they are prepared to move out the moment the call is made. He also made another separate message for Wyman Manderly to man the broken towers of Moat Caitlin.

He would have sent a message to Caspian, but he thought better of it. For one, he didn't want to put the rightful heir's life at stake if he made for the capital. He didn't want to think it, but he couldn't put Cersei above murdering her own blood to make sure the secret is kept a secret, or to make Joffrey ascend the throne, he had seen how she doted on the boy, she favoured him much more above that of the rest of her children.

The second reason was that he didn't have a clue exactly as to where the young prince was. He didn't give a destination as to where he was going, apart from the vague answer that his business was in the Stormlands.

He looked at the three messages that he had penned stacked neatly to the side. There was still a chance to end this without any bloodshed, for the sake of Mycerlla and Tommen. They were sweet children that had done nothing wrong and shouldn't have been made to pay for the sins of their parents.

His eyes softened at the thought of what would happen to them before they caught the messages once more, _No_. He would warn Cersei to leave with her children, but he will send the messages nonetheless. It was far better to be safe rather than sorry.

He nearly called out for Jory before realising once again, at the prompt of a throb of pain in his leg that his captain of the guard had perished thanks to the Kingslayer and his men, who acted in a bid to _chasten_ him. He had to place a soothing hand on the broken leg as it throbbed once more in pain, gritting his teeth. When this was all done and over, he will bring the King's Justice to the Kingslayer and Clegane for the crimes they had done.

Then thoughts lingered to that of his daughters. Their safety was his top priority, he had scheduled for them to return to Winterfell by boat, but that wasn't to be. A storm had been reported on the route the galley was supposed to take and they would be stranded in the capital for a couple more days at worst, and a couple more hours at most.

With a grimace, he rose to his feet, the three messages within his hand as he made for the door. He opened it just at the right moment to see his faithful steward walk past, "Vaylon." Ned called out.

The steward stopped, turned around and bowed his head slightly, "My lord?"

Ned stuck out the messages within his hands, "I want these messages sent within the hour." The steward nodded as he took the scrolls and placed them within a pocket, "And can you also send a message for me to the queen, ask her to meet me in the godswood."

The steward didn't even question his orders as he bowed, "At once my lord." He said as he turned on his heel and quickly went about to carry out his orders.

He had come to the godswood with the help of one of his household retainers. He didn't know how long he had been here but within the calm of the holy place that was used to pray to the old gods of the First Men, his leg throbbed in pain much less than it usually did.

Perhaps it was the honeywine he had taken earlier, or perhaps it was the current place he was in that dulled the pain. Ned liked to think the reason was the latter.

She came to the godswood at sunset, when the sun had cast a brilliant red of colour to the clouds and formerly blue sky. She had come alone, like he had asked of her. And for once, she wasn't dressed in elegant clothes that he usually saw her in, just leather boots and hunting greens.

He noticed the bruise that Robert had given to her earlier when they had their confrontation days earlier had reduced in swellings and the normal colour of her skin was returning to her face, but there was still no mistaking it for what it was.

"Why here?" She asked eventually, standing over him.

"So the gods can see."

She sat beside him on the grass, her every move graceful, her hair swaying with the wind and her eyes shining like the jewels they were. He had seen it before, but once more, Cersei beauty nearly left him awestruck, "I know the truth Jon Arryn died for."

"Do you?" She asked, her eyes watching him, wary as a cat, "Is that what you called me for Lord Stark? To pose me riddles? Or is it intent to seize me as your wife seized my brother?"

"If you truly believed that, you would never have come. Alone much less." He replied. He put a soft, gentle hand on her cheek, "Has he done this before?"

Cersei was quick to move the hand away from her cheek, "Once or twice." She said, looking away, "Never on the face though, Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life. My brother is worth a hundred of your friend." She said to him defiantly.

"Your brother?" Ned began, slowly, "Or your lover?"

"Both." She didn't flinch away from the truth, "Since we were children together. And why not? The Targaryens wed brother and sister together to keep the bloodline pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together, he came into his world holding onto my foot as our old maester once said. When he is in me, I feel...whole." A ghost of a smile fluttering over her lips.

"My son Bran..." Ned said slowly, trying his best to hold back his anger. It would serve no purpose to lash out as he was now.

Cersei didn't flinch at the accusation, "He saw us. Do you love your children Lord Stark?"

He remembered Robert asking him the very same question on the morning of the melee, "I do, with all my heart." He replied, giving the same answer Robert had asked off him.

"No less do I love mine."

Ned felt turmoil within the depths of his being as he thought of whether he was capable of forsaking other people's children that weren't his. He hoped a situation such as that would never come to pass, "And they are all Jaime's." He said, "Apart from Caspian."

He saw two emotions flicker across her face at the name of Caspian, love and loathing. Cersei looked away from him, "He was a...mistake." She said slowly, "A drunken mistake between me and Robert. I don't even remember it." She laughed, a laugh that was airy and angelic to the ears but that also held a darker timbre to it, "The next day, I laid with Jaime and apparently, the gods took amusement in quickening Jaime's seed alongside with that of Robert's. You couldn't believe my thoughts when he slid out of my womb before Joffrey."

That caught Ned's attention, "Before?"

She waved a hand in a nonchalant and dismissive gesture, "Caspian is the older of the two."

"Then why is he second in line to the throne?"

A smile came across Cersei's lips, "I'm very...persuasive and I would rather die than let a spawn of that man take the throne before Joffrey, Tommen or Mycerlla." She nearly spat at the mention of Robert.

Ned was astute enough to sense the hatred in her voice, "What could have Robert done to make you hate him so?" He asked, confusion in his tone, "And if you hate him so much, I'm surprised you didn't...remove Caspian." He struggled to say those words. The thought of actually murdering an innocent child simply out of hatred was too much for him.

A fire burned within Cersei's eyes at the thought, part anger, part hatred and part loathing...at herself. Ned nearly had to rethink that before she spoke, "The night of our wedding feast, when it came for us to consummate the marriage, he climbed on top of me and called out your sister's name. I was a living breathing woman and your sister a rotting corpse in the ground and yet he called out _Lyanna." _Cersei took a moment to regain herself before speaking once more, "And Caspian?...I tried, I really did. I knew he could be the bane of us all that could doom us, but I couldn't. He might have been his son but he was also my son and I love him as much as I love my other children and I also loathe him in equal measure." She said, bite in her voice, "Joff was the son of Jaime yet he doesn't bring me any...pride but Caspian?" She laughed again, that laugh of hers, " The son of the man I hate and loathe the most, yet he was knighted at fourteen, younger than Jaime by a full year before he was knighted himself. He is loved and respected, he is everything that I want Joff to be and Caspian not to be. As much as I hate to admit it, I am proud of him, much like how I can tell Robert is proud of him."

Ned allowed a silence to enter the godswood for a few moments before speaking once more, "Caspian is the rightful heir. You know what I must do."

"_Must_?" She repeated, placing a hand on his good leg, above the knee, "A true man does what he will, not what he must do." Her fingers brushed across his thigh, the gentlest of promises, "The realm needs a strong Hand. Joff doesn't come of age for a few more months. No-one wants war again, least of all me." Her hand touched his face, his cheeks, "If friends can turn into enemies, enemies can turn into friends. Your wife is a thousand leagues away, my brother sent away, be gentle to me and you will not live to regret it."

Ned wasn't to fall for the woman's overtures. He raised a hand and removed Cersei's own from his face, "Caspian _is_ the rightful heir." He stressed, "I take it you also made the same offer to Jon Arryn?"

She slapped him in the face.

"I shall wear it like a badge of honour." He said dryly.

"_Honour_?" She spat, "Don't play the noble lord with me Lord Stark! You fathered a bastard of your own! Who was she? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the young Lady Ashara Dayne who threw herself into the sea, for the brother you killed or the son you stole? Tell me Lord Stark, how are you any different from me, Robert or Jaime?"

"For a start," Ned began, "I don't condone the killing of children. You would do well to listen my lady, for I shall say this once. When Robert returns, I intend to tell him the truth. Take Joffrey, Tommen, Mycerlla away from here, from the continent, go to Essos, I don't care but you cannot stay here."

"Exile." She said, "A bitter cup."

"A bitter cup indeed." Ned agreed with a nod of the head, "But far sweeter than the cup your father served to Rhaegar's children." He said, noticing the flinch of fear in her eyes, "And far more than you deserve. Your father and brothers would do well to go with you, your gold will keep you comfort and buy you swords. You shall be in need for them. I promise you this, for however far you run, Robert's wrath will not be far behind."

The queen stood, Ned's eyes following her as she stood up, "And what of my wrath Lord Stark?" She asked softly, "You should have taken the throne for yourself. Jaime told me about that day, about how you entered the throne room and asked him to step down. All you should have done was take those several steps and sit. Such a mistake."

Ned closed his eyes as he took in a breath of air, "Trust me my lady, I have made many mistakes in my life, but that was not one of them."

"Oh, but it was." Cersei insisted, "When you play the game of thrones, you either win or you die. There is no middle ground."

She turned and left, pulling up her hood to cover up the swelling on her cheek. He watched her leave and by then, he had noticed the sky had stopped bleeding and it was now night. The stars were out and shining in the heavens.

As he looked up to the skies of those very same stars, he felt as if his life was going to become much harder in the next few days.

* * *

**AN: Right...when it comes to pairings, I think the second son and the second daughter i.e. Caspian &amp; Arya thing has been done a few too many times for my liking, and she's too young anyway. I already have a pairing in mind and I'll leave it to you guys to think who it is and just so to say, there will be lemons Game of Thrones is about politics, war and sex after all, but it won't be Caspian banging every female with boobs that he comes across.**

**Also, since its still early in the story I can ask for some fan thoughts on a subject of mine, I plan on playing a bit with the Targaryen blood in the Baratheon family. Orys Baratheon was the bastard brother of Aegon and Robert's grandmother was a Targaryen Princess. I'm sure to the savvy lot of my readers, they have an idea of what I'm wanting to say, but this is just an idea, depends on whether I should put it in or not.**

**Well, this has been fun, hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**TheForeverKing **


	4. Chapter 4

**Saint River: Have a direction in mind for Dorne, so we'll see about that. Funny, I had a similar idea with the whole Targaryen thing, great minds think alike :L**

**movienut96: Some would say laid-back and lazy are the same thing. I get called lazy all the time even though I'm laid-back.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Fire &amp; Ice/A Game of Thrones_

* * *

Dark Times Ahead

Ned should have known something was wrong.

When he had been woken from his strange dream of the crypts of Winterfell, he should have known that something was clearly wrong. He had dreamed a dream about a place where the dead lay, he should have known there was something ominous about the entire thing.

When he had made his way towards Maegor's Holdfast, the residence of the Royal Family, he knew that something was wrong the moment he had seen Ser Barristan's face. He was pale, white as the armour that he wore.

And when Robert had called him from within the room, he knew something was wrong. His voice was too thick.

Ned entered the room with a tentative step, the room suffocating from the heat that was given off from the two lit fires on the two hearts at either side of the bed. He could make out Robert's form placed on the bed and at the bedside hovered Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Renly pacing furiously at the shutters near the window.

A grim look came about Ned's features. He didn't like this, he didn't like any of this.

His eyes hardened slightly at the sight of Cersei, seating beside her husband on the bed, her hair tousled as if she had been roused from sleep, yet there was no sleep at all in her eyes. He had warned her to leave the capital as soon as she can, but it seemed as if his warning had fallen on deaf ears.

She couldn't blame him for what happens next, he had warned her and she had ignored him.

As he hobbled closer to the bed, his nose picked up a smell that had been hidden underneath the veil of the smoke and scent. A smell that he had by now got used to, from his time on the battlefield and his time as the Lord of Winterfell, blood.

And with that realisation came also another smell that he was also used to, death.

Blood and death. Those two smells together never bode well.

"Ned." The king spoke softly, his face pale and his breath labored, "Come...closer." He struggled to say those words.

Ned acknowledged the request and hobbled himself closer to the bed. He steadied himself by placing a hand on the bedpost. He only had to look at Robert to know how bad it was, "What...?" His throat clenched, he couldn't even ask.

"A boar." Lord Renly said, still wearing his hunting greens and still wearing into the carpet near the window with his relentless pacing.

"A devil." The king said, "My own fault. Drank too much wine, damn me to hell. Missed my thrust to kill the fucker."

Ned couldn't believe it, "And where were the rest of you?" He demanded, his question directed at Lord Renly, "Where was Ser Barristan and the Kingsguard?" Their duty was to protect the king and his family, and from what he was seeing, Ned couldn't definitely say that they had not done their duty.

Renly finally stopped, a twitch of the mouth before speaking, "My brother commanded us to stand at the side whilst he took it alone."

Ned's mouth tightened. He should have known. He moved his free hand and lifted the blanket.

His mouth tightened some more. They had done what they could to close him up, but he could see that it was nowhere near enough. The boar must have been a fearsome thing, it had ripped the king from groin to nipple with its tusks. The wine soaked bandages that Pycelle had used to close up the wounds were already black with bloody. The smell was horrendous, enough to churn the stomach of Ned himself and he was rather sure of the other people in the room. He let the blanket fall.

"Stinks." Robert said, "Bastard did me good didn't it? I can smell it. Good thing...I got it back good Ned." The king's smile was as terrible as his wound, his teeth stained red with blood, "Drove a knife right through it's eye. Ask them if I didn't, ask them."

"That we did." Lord Renly answered, now having stopped his pacing, his arms crossed over his chest tightly, "Brought the carcass back at his command."

"For the feast." The king said in a whisper, "Now leave us, the lot of you. I have something to talk about with Ned."

"Robert, my sweet lord..." Cersei began.

"Leave us." Robert repeated, with a bite of his old fierceness, "What part of that don't you understand woman?"

Cersei gathered up her skirts and her dignity and led the way towards the door. Lord Renly soon followed behind her. Pycelle lingered behind, holding up a cup full of thick white liquid, "Drink my lord. It's the milk of the poppy." The old man said, his old hand shaking slightly as he brought the cup to the king's lips, "For the pain."

Robert knocked the drink away, "I said leave us you old fool. I'll sleep soon enough when everything is over and done with."

Pycelle gave Ned a stricken look as he shuffled himself out of the door and the room.

"Damn you, Robert." Ned cursed, his leg throbbing pain far more than it had done before. His eyes were fogging up, he debated whether that was due to the pain or his grief at knowing his old friend was about to die, "Why do you have to be so head strong?"

"Ah fuck you Ned." Robert said hoarsely, "I killed the bastard didn't I?" He said as a matted lock of black hair fell over his eyes as he looked at Ned, "Ought to do the same with you. Gregor Clegane? Ugly thought but I suppose we can't be having him running around disrupting the king's peace in the Riverlands. The Hound won't be too happy about that. Cersei will have to surprise him with that bit of news." He laughed before his laugh turned into a grunt of pain, "Paper and ink. There on the table. Write what I tell you."

Ned hobbled towards the table, making sure that he put the weight of his body onto his crutch rather than his broken leg. He pulled a chair towards him and took a seat by the table, smoothing out the parchment and dipping the quill in ink. He looked at Robert, the quill hovering above the parchment of white paper, "At your command, Your Grace."

"This is the will and word of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and all the rest, put in the rest of the damned titles, you know how it goes. I do hereby command Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my...my death...to rule in my stead...until..." He turned his head to give a pointed look at Ned, "Don't dispute with me about this next part. It's for the best of the realm, I'm sure he's worthy of it." He said. Ned looked at Robert, confusion in his eyes before Robert continued with his will, "Until my son Caspian does come of age."

"Robert..." He trailed off. He couldn't believe it. He had been planning on telling Robert about the truth of Joffrey's birth but seeing him as he was, he just couldn't do such a thing, but then came the matter of Caspian. Officially, he was the second prince when in truth he was actually the Crown Prince, and Cersei had said it so herself, but he doubted that she would willingly admit such a thing in front of others, but it didn't matter. Cersei should be gone by the this time tomorrow and Robert had gone on to pass the throne to him, bypassing Joffrey who was merely a pretender to the throne, "What else may you have me say?"

"Say...say whatever you need to say. Protect and defend, the gods, old and new, you have the words. Write. I'll sign it. You give it to the council when I'm dead."

"Don't do this Robert." Ned said as he allowed the ink to dry, rolling it up when it had dried enough for it not to smudge, "Don't you dare die on me. The realm needs you."

The king took Ned's hand in his own, squeezing hard, "You are such a bad...liar Ned Stark. The realm...the realm knows I am a bad king. Bad as Aerys." He said through the pain, teeth gritted together, "Caspian will change that."

"No." Ned said to his dying friend, "Not so bad as Aerys. No where near as bad as Aerys. Did you burn people alive?"

Robert laughed through the pain, "At least...at least people will say I did the right thing here. You won't fail me. Caspian won't fail me. He might not be interested in the throne itself, but I know he will seat there like he was born to be a king. He'll be the first in many a line that actually deserves to be sitting on that throne." His eyes panned towards Ned's solemn face, "Are you done with the writing?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Ned replied as he passed the paper across to his dying friend. He watched as Robert signed his name blindly, leaving a smear of blood on the parchment of paper, "The seal should be witnessed."

"Serve the boar at my funeral feast." Robert rasped, "Apple in its mouth, skin seared to a crisp. Eat the bastard. I don't care if you choke on it. Promise me Ned."

_Promise me Ned._ Ned's eyes widened. Those were the very same words that his sister had told him as she lay dying on that bed of roses, "I promise."

"Give Caspian all the help he will need." He laughed harshly, before coughing, blood coming with the coughs, "The boy is too independent for his own good. It seems like he doesn't trust anyone to do a task half-right, you will need to set him straight." He coughed up blood once more, "Gods have mercy. Cersei won't be pleased about me passing over Joffrey. I almost feel sorry for you when it comes to dealing with that."

Ned stayed quiet as he thought about it, _She should be gone by tomorrow_. He told himself. Even if Robert died, he still had a duty to carry out in exposing her crimes.

A rasp cough escaped from Robert's mouth, "A pig." He choked out, "Done in by a pig. They will be singing songs about this for years to come. I should be laughing about this, hurts too much though."

"Should I call them back in?"

Robert gave a weak nod of the head, "May as well. Gods, why is it so cold in here?"

Ned grimaced. It wasn't cold, the problem didn't lay with the two hearths in the room. They were still lit and their flames still alive to warm the room. The problem lay with Robert himself, he had lost blood and his body was losing temperature because of it.

Ned called the servants back in. They hurried to tend to the fires once more. Cersei had gone and that was a relief, she had lingered for far too long already.

Robert didn't seem to miss her in the slightest. He bid Lord Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle witness to the sealing of the will with the royal seal. He passed the will to his Hand, "Now give me something for the pain and let me die."

The Grand Maester was quick to concoct another cup of that thick, white liquid that Robert hungrily gulped down. His beard bore thick droplets of the drink before throwing the cup aside, "Will I dream?" He asked simply.

Ned gave him his answer, "You will my lord."

A ghost of a smile flickered onto Robert's face, "Good. I will give my regards to Lyanna when I see her Ned. Take care of my children for me. They will need a far better father figure than I had been."

_They are not all your children old friend_. The words twisted like a knife dug deep into his gut. He thought off all the bastards that Robert had fathered, Gendry, Edric Storm, Mya Stone and Barra and all the others, "I will guard them...like they are my own." He said, trying his best to hide the discomfort he felt.

The king nodded his head. Ned watched him as his head sagged onto the back of his pillow, his eyes closing and his face relieved of the pain he was feeling. Then sleep took him, a sleep he was probably never going to wake up from.

The jingling of Pycelle's chain attracted his attention, "I will do all I can to help him my lords, but the wound has already mortified. It took them two days to bring him here and by then, it was already too late. Only the gods can heal him now."

"How long?" Ned asked.

"By all accounts, he should be dead already." Pycelle stated bluntly, "I have never seen someone cling to life so fiercely."

"My brother had always been strong." Renly said, "Not wise perhaps, but strong indeed." His brow thick with sweat from the sweltering heat from the two hearths. He might as well have been Robert's ghost standing there as he was, young and dark and handsome, "He slew the boar. His entrails were sliding down to the ground, yet he somehow managed to slew the boar." He said, voice full of wonder.

"Robert was never one to leave the battleground as long as a foe was standing." Ned said as he turned for the door. Outside the room, Ser Barristan stood guard, "Pycelle gave the king milk of the poppy, make sure he is not to be disturbed."

"It shall be as you command my lord." He replied, seemingly sounding and looking far older than his years, "I failed in my sacred trust."

"Even the truest knight cannot protect the king from himself." Ned said, in a bit to console the famous knight, "Robert loved to hunt boar. I have seen him take a thousand of them." He had seen him done it many a times, delivering the sure thrust with his great spear to end the boar's life, "No-one would have known that this would be the one to do him in."

"You are kind to say so Lord Eddard."

"The king said as much himself. He blamed the wine."

The white-haired knight gave a weary nod of the head, "The king was reeling by the time we flushed it out of its lair, but he commanded us to stand aside."

"I wonder Ser Barristan." Said Varys, ever so quietly, "How much did the king have to drink?"

Ned had not heard the eunuch approach but when he turned, there he was. Dressed in a long, black velvet robe that brushed the floor and his face and hands freshly powdered.

"It came from the king's own skin." The kingsguard commander replied.

"Hm," Varys hummed in thought, "Hunting is ever tiresome work. I am rather surprised he took only one."

"I did not keep count but he surely had more than one." Ser Barristan added, "His squire would fetch more whenever the king asked for more."

"Such a dutiful boy," Varys said with a nod of the head, "To make sure that his king had refreshment whenever it was asked for."

A bitter taste started forming on Ned's tongue as he could see where Varys was going with this. The eunuch was subtlety trying to push him towards a conclusion from the information he was prying from the kingsguard.

He remembered the two squires of Robert. He had sent them running from the tent before the melee and Robert had told the tale during the feast to raucous laughter, "Which squire?" He inquired.

"The older one." Ser Barristan returned, "Lancel."

Cersei's cousin.

Ned's stomach churned. It couldn't be could it? No. He was coming to too many conclusions without proof and Cersei had only learned that he knew of her incest after Robert had gone on his hunting expedition.

"I know the lad well." Varys said, his hands pocketed into the sleeves of his robe, "Ser Kevan Lannister's child, nephew to Lord Tywin and the queen's cousin. I hope the dear boy does not blame himself. Children are ever so vulnerable in the innocence of their youth."

Ned wanted to believe either wise but he wasn't so sure. Instead, he changed the topic, "Varys," He said, garnering the attention of the eunuch, "Have you information on the whereabouts of Prince Caspian?"

"Prince Caspian?" Varys repeated, with some surprise in his voice, "Honestly? No. I have come to learn much to my personal amusement and chagrin, is that when the young prince doesn't want to be found, he doesn't want to be found. My little birds cannot find head or hair of him, its as if he's disappeared of the face of the world itself."

Ned frowned at the news before straightening his face. He bowed, "Thank you, but I fear I shall have to retire back to the Tower. My leg cannot take the strain anymore."

XxX

Ned sat in his office, stewing over the conversation he had just had with the youngest brother of Robert. The Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had suggested that they take Cersei's children into their care before the Cersei could put a stranglehold over them.

He reasoned that Cersei would never move with her children's life at stake, but Ned had disregarded it. He did not want to shed blood within the confines of the castle during the night of Robert's death, but what the queen had said to him during their meeting in the godswood still hung over him.

_When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die._

Perhaps he had been wrong in turning away Renly's help. He had no love for the intrigues of the court, but if Cersei chose to stay and fight, there was very little he could do. His depleted guardsmen would be unable to stop anything from happening against Lannister forces. And anyway, he knew he needed more than a hundred swords, that is why he had sent for the man known as Littlefinger.

That is why he sat on one side of his desk, facing the man who once bore feelings for his lady wife and still did to this day. He knew, he may have tried to hide it, but he had seen it in his eyes when he laid his eyes on her that day.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." Littlefinger said, a lazy smile on his face. He was dressed in a blue velvet tunic with puffed up sleeves and his silver cloak adorned with mockingbirds.

Ned found that quite suiting for someone like him, "Your king lies on his deathbed and you thank me?"

"Ah, sorry, guess that was rude of me." He apologised, although he didn't show that he was sorry at all, "So how is it being Protector of the Realm?"

Ned wasn't surprised he knew, "I will tell you when I find out." He quipped in retort, "And how did you learn of that if I may ask?"

Littlefinger smiled, "Varys hinted as such."

Ned should have known. Catelyn had been right about him, there was something about him, "I don't trust that man."

Littlefinger's smile widened, "Excellent, you are learning. But I doubt you dragged me all the way here in the middle of the night to discuss the weather and the eunuch." He finished, leaning forward.

"No." Ned admitted freely, "I know the secret Jon Arryn died for. When Robert dies, his only trueborn son will be Caspian, the rest are incest-born bastards of Cersei and Jaime. Caspian is the heir to the throne, not the pretender Joffrey."

"Shocking."

Ned narrowed his eyes, "...You knew?"

Littlefinger smiled evenly, wringing his hands together, "I have seen some of Robert's bastards. I became rather curious that his trueborn children looked nothing like him. Baratheon blood is rather strong."

Ned frowned, "I can't say I'm surprised." He had come to stop trying to be surprised in the time he had spent in King's Landing. If he continued being surprised by the things he learned, he would have suffered a heart attack by now.

Littlefinger leaned back into his chair, hands still wringed together, "So Caspian is the rightful heir. Unless..." He trailed off, his eyes boring at Ned's.

Ned held back a frown, "Unless? There is no unless. Caspian is the heir."

"He is, but have you learnt nothing from history? I am sure you have heard of the Blackfyre Rebellions."

"There is no rebellion about this."

"Caspian is second-in-line to the throne." Littlefinger pointed out, "Joffrey won't sit down quietly and take it. And I haven't even begun with Cersei. Her relationship with her second son is strenuous at best while she dotes on Joffrey more so than what could be considered healthy."

A small smile came across Ned's lips, "Caspian is the first born. Cersei said as such, she killed the midwives apart from Pycelle to keep that fact quiet." _She truly loathed Robert_.

Littlefinger raised an eyebrow, "Well, I did not know that. But I doubt she will just confess that, I'm rather sure she would rather see Tommen or Myrcella on the throne long before Caspian. I don't see where her prejudice comes from, it's obvious to most that look that Caspian is far better situated for the throne."

"Then why are you against him taking it then?"

Littlefinger smiled that mocking smile of his, "Because unlike Joffrey, he will actively take an interest in ruling the kingdom and he is far less...tractable than his brother. Say what you will about his attitude, but no-one can disregard the boy's brilliance."

Ned could see where Littlefinger was going with this, "You want the realm."

"Who doesn't?"

Ned gave him a stony stare, "What you say can be considered treason Lord Baelish."

"Hm, I guess it could be taken as that." Littlefinger said, unwringing his hands, "So shall we forget that conversation ever happened? Maybe we can move on as to why you called me here. I doubt it was for my lovely personality nor my wisdom."

"I shall do my best to ignore your...wisdom." Ned said slowly, "I have called you to call upon that promise of help you made to Catelyn. I maybe the Lord Protector of the Realm, yes, but to the rest of the world, Joffrey is still Robert's son and heir. The queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men-at-arms who will do whatever she commands...and for all I know, Ser Jaime maybe riding towards King's Landing with a host behind him."

"And you without an army." Littlefinger mused as he played with a gold dragon in one hand, "You will find many at court who would be willing to help. The Lannisters have made quiet the number of enemies in the past few years, and all have their own men-at-arms and knights."

"Renly has thirty men in his personal guard, and the rest even fewer. It is not enough, even if I was certain all of them will give me their allegiance, it still wouldn't be enough. I must have the City Watch. They are 2,000 strong and sworn to protect the city, the castle and the king's peace."

"And if the queen proclaims one king and the Hand another?" Littlefinger proposed, "Who's peace do they protect?" He dropped the gold dragon onto the table, a smile on his face as the coin bounced on the table before coming to a halt face down, "There's your answer. They follow the man who pays them." He said with a smile on his face, his green-grey eyes shining with mockery, "You were your honour like a suit of armour, Stark. You think it keeps you safe, yet here you called for me. I know what you want to ask of me, but you cannot ask me it because it gets caught up in your throat because it isn't..._honourable_." He saw the rigid look on Ned's face and laughed, "I should make you say it...but that would be cruel. But have no fear, I shall do what you have asked of me, see you on the morrow." He finished as he rose from his feet and made for the door and exit.

XxX

Caspian

Caspian knew where he was. He was in Storm's End, the ancestral seat of House Baratheon. He wondered how he had come here, even though he knew that he was in the Dornish Marches instead of that ancient castle that sat near Shipbreaker's Bay.

He was confused to say the least, but when he looked up and noticed the clear blue sky, he realised that he was dreaming. The sky was never that blue in the Stormlands, it was milder and sometimes or more accurately most of the time, overcast from the constant storm's that were common in the lands.

Without thinking or without any other prompting, he made for the large drum tower that was the single lone building within the castle grounds. It was so large that it contained the granary, the barracks, armoury, feast hall and lord's chambers all at once. When he had come here as a child for the first time, he had been in awe at the sight.

After the awe, came a childish giddiness as he forgot about everything else and ran for the top of the tower. The view it offered was amazing. To the east, the ocean and Shipbreaker's Bay, he had sworn that he could have seen the coasts of the eastern continent and when he looked to the west, he would have also sworn he could see the white tiered walls of Highgarden and the reflections of their golden roses.

But as he finally returned to the reality of his dream, he noticed that he was not at the top of the tower like the usual dreams he had about Storm's End, the castle he hoped to inherit from his uncle one day. He found himself within the underground crypt of his home away from home.

He frowned.

For a dream, he was far too lucid. He looked down and raised a hand. He looked at it and clenched a fist several times over before placing it on a wall. The stone was smooth, there was no roughness to it, but smooth like every other stone and brickwork that was used into building the castle.

He removed his hand and allowed it to drop to his side once more. He looked around and he could see the crypts of the previous lords of Storm's End along with the crypts of other Baratheons whose time had come to pass in this world.

Caspian had never felt fear since his childhood. His grandfather had made sure that such an emotion was driven out of him as early as possible when he started squiring for him back when he was eight.

But he felt dread.

Even when he had nightmares, he never felt dread, he would always be curious to see what kind of terrors his mind would conjure up in a bid to give him a restless nights' sleep.

He didn't want to be hear.

He turned and made for the stairs that led up to the exit, but as he walked, he found himself walking deeper into the crypt, even when he tried to turn and go the opposite way. Even when he stopped, he would continue to find himself deeper and deeper into the crypt.

Seeing that his circumstances were out of his control, he gave up and stopped resisting and allowed his dream to take him wherever it wanted him to go. As he continued to delve deeper into the crypt, he noticed that he had passed the resting places of his great-grandparents, Lord Ormund and Lady Rhaelle Baratheon, their likeness forever captured onto marble statues, then onto his grandparents Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana Baratheon, their crypts empty as their bodies were never found when their ship sank at the coast of Storm's End. From what his father and two uncles said about his grandparents, he wouldn't have minded meeting them, but it seemed as if the gods had other plans for them.

He eventually noted that he had stopped. Curious, he looked around and noticed that he was now deeper into the crypt, where there were no bodies to be laid. He looked around and his body froze.

Their was a statue. A statue in the likeness of his father, before he had started losing himself to feasting, whoring and drinking, dressed in immaculate armour and his hands holding onto a warhammer.

He blinked.

And like that, the dream was no more.

Caspian's eyes snapped open with a slight hitch to his breath. He quickly got a hold of himself and sat up on the feather bed, the smooth, silk blanket that had been covering his upper body dropping down to his waist, revealing his bare torso.

_Well, that was strange_. He thought to himself. The dream had certainly been rather strange but also rather ominous in meaning, but Caspian was never one to lose himself in superstition. He was a man who only believed in what he saw right in front of him, not what he couldn't see.

He went to run a hand through his hair but noticed his brow sweaty. He wiped and brought his hand to the front of his eyes as he looked down upon it. The low moonlight and the cinders from the hearth giving enough light for him to see the sweat glisten off his hands.

It seemed as if the dream had affected him more than he thought, either that or this was nothing more than an after effect of his earlier activities. Casting the thought aside, he ran a hand through his hair, his sweat slicking it backwards and away from his eyes as he rose from his bed, naked as the day he was born.

He went towards the window and parted the curtains to either side and looked to the sky. The moon was disappearing over the horizon and the stars were barely visible the more he turned his direction eastward. It seemed as if dawn was approaching, the redding of the sky was more than enough to attest to that.

He went towards the wash basin that was in the room and cupped a hand full of water and brought it to his face. He brought his hands down his face and glanced up into the looking mirror that stood in front of the basin.

He squinted slightly as he brought a hand to his hair once more before catching onto a strand of hair and tugging it quickly, pulling it out of its root. He had done it so many times by now the pain was hardly noticeable. He brought the hair to his face and looked at it, _Grey_, He thought to himself as he twisted the lone strand of hair in between his index and thumb, _Only five-and-ten years of age and yet my hair is greying. Joffrey's hair should be the one greying, he is the one who has to deal with being king._ And he shuddered at the thought. All the times he thought of his dear brother as king, it always brought nightmares that would bring feelings dread to his mind.

He sometimes found himself hoping that his lord father was granted a long, long, _long_ reign and that during that reign, somewhere along the line, Joffrey would die, leaving an indiscriminate heir of course. He had no qualms about taking the throne if called to do so, but he preferred his free wheeling life, being king meant he had to actually look towards his kingly duties and he was rather dutiful to his duties.

He cast the blame both on Eddard Stark and his Uncle Stannis. More so with Eddard, his Uncle had little influence on him growing up. His father would have rather seen him fostered by his youngest brother than Stannis himself.

No doubt his uncle would have seen that as a slight. The man seemed to take even the slightest of things a slight against him, _And I'm the heir apparent to Storm's End..., _even though it hadn't been confirmed, he might as very well be, G_iving him more reason to not like me._

His thoughts returned to the dream once more. What a strange dream that was and it gave him a bad feeling. He made for his clothes, he doubted he could rest anymore with his mind the way it was.

"Hmm..." His attention was turned to the bed he had left minutes earlier and saw the second incumbent rise up, her small hands rubbing her eyes. The silk blanket also dropped of her torso to leave her naked up to her waist.

Caspian gave an appreciative look at her as he once again took in her buxom features, even though he had seen her naked a number of times by now and the sight should have been nothing new to look at, he always took a moment to take it in, "Sorry, did I wake you?" He asked softly. He didn't know if he did, he was rather sure that he had been quiet in his whole approach from the bed, to the basin and to his clothes.

"You are as quiet as a cat." The girl, no woman replied, her voice sultry despite the groggy state the woman was in, or was that the effect of her accent adding to her allure? He did not know, neither did he find himself caring, "Marko taught you well."

Caspian snorted in indignation, "I have always been quiet. Marko didn't have to teach me anything." He had learned by copying Varys. He always found it amusing at how he could always sneak up on a man with nigh a sound and scare them half to death when they realised he was there.

He wanted to learn to how to do that himself, he could see the fun in doing so.

That and because he knew how dangerous it was. He didn't trust Varys, even though he knew the men served the realm rather than the whims and fancies of the various nobles at court, he didn't trust the eunuch.

He remembered Varys telling him that it was because nobody trusted the eunuch, even when he meant good. Caspian had been young at the time, but then he realised why people didn't trust him, because he was an unknown. A wise man would always look upon the unknown with a wary eye at best and a sword in hand at worst.

"You are going?" She asked, her voice sounding disappointed at the notion.

Caspian nodded as he resumed putting on his clothing, "I still have things to do. I already did one of them anyway." He finished with a wink in the direction of the woman. He didn't know whether she had seen it or not, but he didn't care.

The rustle of blankets being thrown aside along with the light, gentle pitter-patter of steps coming towards him didn't deter him from putting on his clothes. He was doing up the buttons of his tunic when a soft, small hand placed itself on his own.

He followed the hand towards its owner, _Gods she was beautiful_. She certainly was. She was petite in height, but she was buxom, with soft olive skin, beautiful dark brown eyes and long, thick hair that fell into ringlets at the small of her back and full lips.

Arianne Martell, the Princess of Dorne and his current lover. In all his wildest dreams, he would not have seen himself bedding a woman from the Martell family...or one from Dorne in general. His father was disliked in the kingdom, his mother's family even more so.

In fact, he was still rather surprised and still in awe that he was still alive after having spend several days in Sunspear. He had been waiting for someone to just poison him or spear him in the back during his entire stay there, _Or better yet, red scorpions hidden in the canopy of bed._

"Has anyone ever told you," The second prince began, taking in her features once more, "You are utterly gorgeous?"

She smiled to him, "Quite a few men and women."

"I should meet some of these women then."

"You should come down to Sunspear more then." Arianne said as her hand trailed down from his own, "I know these lovely twins, I'm sure you would love them." She finished as she continued to trail her hand down his clothing until it went below his waist.

"Maybe some other time then." Caspian said, finding himself getting hot-blooded as Arianne's hand began to brush up and down on his crotch.

"Do you have to go?" She asked, continuing her game, "I have been looking rather forward to this."

"What, can't find any suitable man in Sunspear or Dorne in general for you to toy with? I'm surprised." She clutched his crotch and gave a gentle squeeze, a squeeze that still brought a measure of discomfort, "Ow. I take back what I said. Let go. I'm sure you would be also rather disappointed if that stopped being useful."

She let go and laughed, "I would be disappointed." She said as she started undoing the laces to his breeches.

Caspian could only sigh. He brought a hand to ruffle his hair, "I did them up for a reason." He said, slightly annoyed.

Arianne gave him a sultry look, "Since our time together is ending so abruptly after all the wait, I think I'm allowed a little compensation." She lowered herself to her knees and released his member from its confines. She placed a hand on it and began to gently stroked it up and down, "And this will just do." She said as she brought his cock into her mouth.

Caspian looked down at Arianne's bobbing head, "Selfish." He whined, although his heart wasn't into and it showed in the tone of his voice as he felt the warm and pleasurable confines of the Princess' mouth on his dick. He could feel his dick hardening and growing in size with each stroke of her hand and each movement of her mouth. She would sometimes bringing it out of her mouth to give his dick long slow, pleasurable licks from the base to the head, "I have things to do." By now, his hand was placed on her head as he helped her with her bobbing.

She looked up at him, a pop sounding emanating in the room when she removed the member from her mouth. A sly and amused look was on her face, "You don't look like someone in any sort of haste." She said, a smirk dorning those lips of hers as she continued to pump him, making sure he remained erect.

He raised an eyebrow, "And who's fault is that?"

She didn't reply, instead she returned to her previous work and continued to pleasure him with her mouth. He tilted his head back slightly as he felt his climax upon him, oncoming like the storms that came from the seas.

Arianne wasn't startled by the sudden feeling of her mouth being sprayed with his seed. Instead, she knew it was oncoming and had stopped bobbing her head when she felt the veins in his dick begin to pulse frequently and had placed the tip within her mouth, giving pleasurable licks to the head and stroking the rest.

Arianne got to her feet, a hand wiping away some of his seed that had spilled out of her mouth, "Plenty as usual." She said, licking said finger and the seed that was upon it, "I'm surprised you haven't sired any bastards with the amount you release."

Caspian rolled his eyes and picked her up beneath her armpits, much to the princess' surprise and dropped her on the edge of the bed, "I'm careful. I never spill my seed inside their cunts." Most of the time, he released on their belly or on their buttocks, depending on the position that he had been fucking them in. The other times, he would be finished off with the use of the girls mouth.

A rather paranoid habit of his was whenever he spilled his seed on the belly or buttocks, he was always the one to wash it off. He didn't want to sire any royal bastards and become like his father. There had been too many comparisons between the two of them for his liking anyway.

"All except for me." Arianne said with a hint of amusement in her tone, "You sure have a lot of trust me. How do you know I'm not secretly planning on siring your bastard child?" She asked as she fell onto her back from a light shove from the royal prince.

Caspian didn't have an answer so he merely shrugged his shoulders as he pushed thighs apart, "Who knows? Maybe I do and I doubt your father would be pleased with you siring a bastard before you come into your position as Princess of Dorne." He finished as brought his mouth to her cunt, "...Or before you are married."

Dorne might have been the most liberal out of all the Seven Kingdoms, but it still held onto the same traditions that the other kingdoms held. In Dorne, one might not expect their wife to be a maiden upon the night of consummation but that was normal, but one would still have expected their wife to be childless.

Bastards could come after.

"I gues-Ah!" Arianne didn't finish her sentence as she felt a rush of pleasure overcome her when Caspian gave a lick to her cunt. She moaned in pleasure as she continued to fill his tongue flick again and again on her cunt, gasping whenever he parted her folds with a hand and dove his tongue inside her, licking her inside, "T-There...!" She moaned in pleasure, arching her back.

Caspian felt her small hands on his head as she used her strength in a bid to keep him in his current position. He smirked to himself when she heard her passionate moans and gave himself a pat on the back whenever she shivered in delight.

He shook his head to free his head from Arianne's hand and rose up from his previous position. He licked his lips, "Still the tastiest woman I have tasted." Arianne didn't answer. Caspian saw that her eyes were half-glazed in passion fuelled lust. He chuckled to himself as he crawled forward and used a free hand to position himself in her opening.

His cock slid in without difficult and he grunted in pleasure as he felt Arianne's warm walls envelop his dick. At the same time, Arianne's mouth opened to release a gasp as she felt her insides being filled.

He began to fuck her, thrusting himself as deep as he could with each movement. Arianne without any help from him bucked her hips up and down to meet his own thrusts despite her position. Caspian lowered his mouth and took one of her dark nipples and bit on it gently, bringing another gasp, of pleasure or pain, he didn't know but he was certain it was pleasure. He had brought up his other free hand and began to play with her other ripe breast, kneading and massaging it with his hand and occasionally toying with the nipple with the occasional pinch or pull.

Arianne's moans were the loudest, covering those of Caspian's. The prince felt his second release coming only to stop suddenly when he felt his lover's folds tighten around his dick. He looked at Arianne with an amused look, "Did you just climax?"

Arianne panted for breath and seemed hardly aware of her surroundings, but was still able to tell that her lover had yet to finish, "Oh shut up and fuck me."

Caspian could only chuckle, "As the lady commands." He said as he returned to his previous activity. With Arianne's climax, her folds were still tight and he found his own climax coming and he found himself quickly pulling out and spilling his seed on her belly. He looked down at her glistening belly, "Huh, seems like I won't be spilling my seed into you anymore...or for the time being." It seems what she had said earlier about siring him a bastard had got to him.

He didn't get a reply and he looked at her face to see why. Arianne's chest was moving up and down in quick succession as she panted for breath, her eyes were still dazed and by the looks of it had yet to regain her wits from her own climax. He chuckled to himself as he brought the silk blanket over her, wiping away the seed and throwing it to the side before getting another one and putting it over her to keep her warm.

He redid his laces and headed for the door, "As always, you are still the best I have ever heard Arianne." He said as he opened it, "See you next time." He doubted that she had been able to make out his parting words to her, but it wasn't his problem.

XxX

It didn't take long for him to come get outside. He stopped and allowed the morning fresh air to enter his nostrils with a big take of breath. He released and sighed.

He looked around and noticed that the two groups of Martell and Baratheon guardsmen were located at opposite ends of the courtyard, enjoying themselves drinking, but all the while keeping a wary eye on each other. Caspian rolled his eyes and made for his own group of guards.

Asher saw him coming and raised a curious eyebrow, "We are leaving already?" He asked, rather surprised. On his lap was one of the serving girls of the manse who was half naked and seemingly enjoyed the attention she was receiving form his sworn sword, if the half undone dress of hers was anything to go by, "We've only been here for a day. That's far less than usual." By now the other guardsmen had noticed him and raised a cup to their prince or gave a bow of acknowledgement. Protocol would have dictated that they rise to their feet and bow, but Caspian was never one for protocol and he made sure that they knew it.

The prince frowned, "I have a...bad feeling. Let's go with that. We are going to Storm's End." He looked around at his guards, "Of course after you have all sobered up or fucked a girl, whatever you want. You have until midday." With that, he turned around and made for the manse once more.

He wondered if Arianne was up for another round? He needed something to do whilst he waited for his escort to get their wits about them.

XxX

Eddard

_Damn her_. Ned cursed as he waited in his solar for the rest of the small council. Cersei had yet to run and he had given her plenty of time to leave with her children. He couldn't be blamed for what was to happen next, _Damn her for making me do this_.

It had only been a day since Robert's death and due to his wishes, his body was on its way to be entombed with the rest of the Baratheons in Storm's End. He had not wished to be laid to rest in the crypts that also held '_Those damned dragonspawn.' _As he once said so himself.

He found it somewhat amusing. Robert held the Blood of the Dragon himself from the founder of his house Orys Baratheon, the bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror and not only that, but his grandmother was a Targaryen, a princess at that.

But amusement couldn't wash away the grief he felt for his friend. He wanted to weep, but the hour he had dreaded had come, _Damn her. She should have run when I told her too._

Ser Barristan had been the first to answer the summons, immaculate in his white and enamelled armour. He had asked to be granted leave to take his place as the shield of the new king, _False king_. Ned had thought to himself, but he had denied the request.

Littlefinger was next to arrive, draped in the same clothing he had worn the previous night before. His riding boots dusty. He had smiled at him and had told him that the task he had asked for had been completed.

Varys entered next, smelling of lavender and his face pink from a fresh bath, face freshly powdered and his soft heels all but soundless. He was the last to arrive, Pycelle had already returned.

Ned frowned as he looked around, "Where is Lord Renly?"

Varys gave him a sorrowful look, "I fear Lord Renly has left the city."

The Warden of the North was taken back, "Left the _city_?" He had been counting on Renly's support.

Varys nodded his plump head, "He took his leave shortly before dawn. Him, Ser Loras and fifty or so retainers through a postern gate. The last time he was seen, he was riding for Storm's End or Highgarden."

_So much for those hundred swords._ Ned did not like the sound of what he was hearing, but there was nothing he could do about it except get on with the current task at hand. He brought out Robert's letter, "The king called me to his side and commanded me to record his last words. Lord Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle stood witness as the seal was applied." He passed it towards the knight in the room, "Ser Barristan if you would please."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard broke the seal and opened the letter, "Lord Eddard Stark is hereby named as Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until," He stopped in shock, gaining looks from the others all except for Ned, "Until his heir, Prince Caspian becomes of age."

A silence entered the room as the words sank in. Littlefinger blinked and was the first to speak, "Prince Caspian? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't he the second born?" He asked, a smile having now formed on his lips.

Ser Barristan seemingly had a look of relief on his face as he read the letter, "It seems as if King Robert saw him as the more worthy heir to the throne."

_The other one isn't even his heir._ Ned thought to himself. He then went on to speak himself, "I would ask this council to confirm me as Lord Protector until Prince Caspian has returned from his leave, ascended to the throne and come of age, as Robert wished." He said, giving a look to all the councillors present. At Pycelle's half closed eyes, Littlefinger's small lazy smile, Varys' nervously fluttering fingers and Ser Barristan's pleased eyes as he continued to read and seemingly re-read the letter, _It seems he's rather happy about Caspian being king. I wonder why?_

The door to the solar opened and Fat Tom entered, "Forgive me my lords, the king's steward's insist."

The royal steward entered and bowed, "The king demands the immediate presence of his small council in the throne room."

Ned had expected Cersei to strike quickly and this did not come as a surprise, "King Caspian is not in the city," He said, surprising the steward who blinked owlishly, "But we shall go with you nonetheless. Tom, assemble an escort if you would."

Littlefinger helped him down the stairs whilst Varys, Pycelle and Ser Barristan followed closely behind. When he exited the tower, a double column of guardsmen stood at the ready, eight in total. Grey cloaks snapped in the wind and there was no Lannister crimson to be seen, but Ned felt reassured at the number of the visible gold cloaks on the ramparts and gates.

Janos Slynt met them at the large, ornate door that led into the throne room, armoured in ornate black and gold, with a high crested helmet in one arm. The commander bowed stiffly. His men pushed the door open.

The royal steward bowed them in, "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He sang out.

It was a long walk towards the throne, towards the boy that called himself king. The last he had been here, Targaryen dragons watched, perched on their walls as he asked Ser Jaime to step down from the throne quietly. The knight had done so and he wondered if Joffrey would do so as well.

He saw five knights of the kingsguard, all except for Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, standing in a crescent around the base of the throne. They were in full armour, enamelled in white steel, their shields strapped onto their left arms.

Cersei Lannister and her two youngest stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn, dressed in a sea-green silk gown trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as foam. On her finger was a golden ring the size of a pigeon's egg and a matching tiara.

Above them, Prince Joffrey sat atop the throne, dressed in satin gold and black with a red cape. Standing at the foot of the stairs was Sandor Clegane, dressed in full armour coloured black.

The sight of the twenty Lannister guardsmen standing behind the throne didn't fill Ned with any sort of notion that the boy Joffrey was going to step down from that throne. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself. But Littlefinger had kept to his promise and Ned could see standing at the sides the men of the City Watch in their gold cloaks, hands strapped around the shafts of eight foot long poles of a spear.

Joffrey stood, a proud, smug look upon his fair features. His satin cape swished with the abrupt action before settling once more behind him, "I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation," The boy proclaimed, "I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today, I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors."

Ned leg flamed with pain from his walking, but he was still able to look at Varys, "Varys' be so kind to show this to my lady of Lannister."

Cersei took the letter and skimmed over its content, a frown on her face, "Lord Protector of the Realm?" She said, "And Caspian king? He's the second born." She said with a distasteful look at Ned.

"Those were Robert's very own words. He deems Caspian more suitable for the throne." Ned could see that his words had angered the boy Joffrey, "And second born? I'm sure we all know the truth to that my lady."

Confused looks were shared between the people in the throne room, but their attention was back on Cersei as she ripped the letter into shreds, "A piece of paper? And this was supposed to be your shield?"

Ser Barristan had a look of shock about him, "Those were the king's very own words."

"A dead king." Cersei said, "Joffrey is your new king."

"Robert pronounced Caspian as his heir." Ned insisted, taking note of Joffrey's reddening features every time Caspian was spoken as the heir.

Cersei seemingly ignored the contents of the letter as she spoke again, "Lord Eddard, when we last spoke, you gave me some counsel. I will do the same, bend the knee, swear fealty to your new king and I will allow you to step down and live out the rest of your days in that grey waste you call home."

"Would that I could." Ned replied grimly. It seems Cersei was intent on forcing the issue and thus he had no choice to force it, "I'm afraid Joffrey has no claim to the throne. Caspian is Robert's one true heir."

"_Liar!_" Joffrey screamed, his face a red that Ned thought was not possible.

"Mother, what does he mean?" Princess Myrcella asked plaintively, "Is Joffrey king or is Caspian king?"

"You condemn yourself with your own mouth Lord Stark." Cersei said, "Ser Barristan, seize this traitor."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hesitated, seemingly debating himself internally. In a blink of an eye, he was surrounded, Stark guarsmen holding bare steel within their mailed hands.

"And now the treason moves from words to deeds." Cersei said, "Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone my lord?" With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his sword. The Lannister guardsmen and City Watch seemingly moved to support him.

"_Kill him_!" The boy-king Joffrey screamed at the top of his lungs, "_Kill all of them, I command it!_"

Ned eyed Cersei Lannister, "You leave me no choice. Commander, take the queen and her children into custody." He said to Janos Slynt.

The commander of the gold cloaks put on his helmet, "Men of the watch!" He yelled. A hundred gold cloaks levelled their spears and advanced.

"I want no bloodshed." Ned told the queen, "Tell your men to stand down-."

With a single, sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak thrust forward his spear into the back of Tomard. Fat Toms sword dropped to the ground from his nerveless fingers. He was dead by the time his sword had hit the floor.

Ned's shout came far too late. Ned had to watch as his men were cut down by the gold cloaks and the Hound, when he moved to protect himself, he found a dagger pressed into his neck from behind.

His smile was apologetic, "I _did_ warn you not to trust me you know."

* * *

**AN: 4th Chapter!**

**Unlucky for Ned! Well, at least he managed to get the word out before he managed to get himself caught. How will those messages effect the storyline? You'll have to see for yourself soon enough.**

**And oh yes, this isn't an Arianne pairing, like I said before, Caspian won't be settling down for a long, long while, even if he could, he probably won't. You'll find out later on in the future chapters.**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this guys, leave a review!**

**TheForeverKing**


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones_

* * *

Just The Start

The raven had arrived a few days prior by the time Caspian and his entourage had arrived at Storm's End. The raven was one of many that had been sent throughout the realm bearing one message, the King was dead.

His father was dead.

And Joffrey was to be king.

Caspian immediately picked up the cup of wine that laid on his table and took a large drink from it. He placed the drink back onto the table and used the back of his hand to swipe away some dribble of wine. He could drink far more refined than the way he was drinking now, but the thought of Joffrey on the throne was just hard enough to drive him to the drink.

_I'm going to have to go to King's Landing for the coronation won't I?_ He thought to himself as he sat within the solar of the Lord of Storm's End, his fingers drumming on the large wooden table in front of him, _It wouldn't do for the second prince to not be at his brother's coronation. Not at all._

He would go after his father had been buried into the tombs below the castle. His father's remains were being transported from King's Landing to Storm's End to be interred with the other Baratheon's beneath the castle.

Caspian took another drink of the wine once more, _A fucking pig._ He couldn't believe it. His father, the mighty Robert Baratheon, who admittedly wasn't so mighty anymore, but the man who had brought down Rhaegar and put down the Greyjoys in their rebellion had been killed by a pig. There was something to be said about this, something people would find to be amusing but he couldn't find the right words for it.

Well, there was no point in crying over spilt milk. There was nothing he could do about it, so instead he finished off the rest of the wine he was drinking and was about to go for another until he realized he would be doing a lot more drinking and feasting tonight during the funeral feast.

Already, the ancestral home of House Baratheon was seeing playing host to all of his fathers' bannermen who had come to pay their respects. If one thing had to be said about the Storm Lords, it was that they were rather loyal to their liege lord.

Caspian turned in his chair to look at the sword sheathed in the black and gold scabbard that had prancing stags along its length on the wall. His eyes softened at the sight. It had been a gift from his father on his thirteenth name day, several days before he had decided to go see the rest of the world and had traveled to Essos.

He got up from his seat and made his way towards the sword. He picked it up from the pedestal it was placed on and was quick to draw it out from its confines. The handle was black with the hilt and an elaborate but still practical cross guard a gold color and when the rest of the blade came out of the scabbard, it showed it was grey in colour, a grey so dark that it could have been mistaken for black with a ripple pattern to it and strangely enough, it had something of a gold ripple to it at the edges of the blade mixed in with the dark grey of the valyrian work, giving it something of a shine.

It was a Valyrian forged blade, a blade that his father had sent Ser Barristan to win for him from a sellsword in Essos. Down the length of the 90cm long blade on both sides were the words of his House engraved onto the blade _Ours is the Fury. _

Caspian had called the sword _Stormbringer. _His father had given it to him with the intention of making the sword the ancestral sword of House Baratheon and Caspian intended to do just that if he had any say in it.

He remembered the day that he had been given it. It was after his and Joffrey's coming of age ceremony when they had gone with their father to hunt in the kingswood. He remembered that particular day clearly because his brother had gone and won no favour with their lord father.

Even though their objective was to hunt and kill any animal of their wish in any kind of way they wanted, Joffrey had gone to kill his own prey with a crossbow, something that their lord father found unsuiting for his heir and a man of House Baratheon.

He had gone to rant that Joffrey was the first Baratheon to ever complete such a tradition with a crossbow and not only that, he had missed his first few shots to kill his prey. When it came to Caspian's turn though, he had done it properly in their father's eyes, with a blade and staring down at his quarry straight in the eye.

Then afterwards, they had gone back to the King's Landing for the rest of the name-day celebrations. Both princes were gifted by many lords and ladies of Westeros that had been in attendance, with both Joffrey and Caspian receiving personal ships from their grandsire the Estermonts.

Their grandfather, Tywin Lannister had gifted them two different gifts, a golden crossbow for Joffrey and a golden bow for Caspian himself. It was when it came to presents from their parents did he receive the _Stormbringer_. Their mother had gifted them with horses, Shadowfax in his case and their father had each given both boys two different gifts, the valyrian blade for himself and a valyrian dagger for Joffrey.

He was sure that had caused quite the few whispers to go around the Great Hall as they thought about the presents and what they could have meant. A small dagger for the older prince and a fine blade for the younger one, that was quite the controversy.

Caspian had definitely seen his brother stew quietly on his place on the high table and had felt like making the quip that Joffrey was more than likely to cut himself than anything else if he had received the sword more so than the dagger.

He gave the sword a few test swings and listened with an even look on his face as he heard the air rush away from the path of the blade. Like all Valyrian steel blades, it was light, light enough that he could wield the blade with one hand, which suited him better as he preferred to fight with a shield in one hand or have another blade of some kind in the other.

A knock on the door attracted his attention, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Edric who entered the room, dressed in mourning clothes. His eyes were a slight red, showing the signs that he had been crying sometime earlier. When Caspian had taken Edric as his squire and met him for the first time during his first stay at Storm's End, he was quick to point out that their father wasn't the man that they thought he was.

Edric had held their father with as much love he could muster even though they had never met, simply because Varys, on Edric's name-day would always gift him with some kind of name-day gift in the guise of their lord father. The truth had been difficult to bare, but Edric eventually managed to not expect much from their lord father, but that did not mean the young boy would not cry for his father.

"Been crying have we?" Caspian teased light-heartedly, a small smile on his face, "If our lord father saw you now, he would more than likely slap you to get yourself together. 'Real men don't cry!' he would probably say."

Edric quickly brought the sleeve of his tunic to his eyes and rubbed away furiously at his eyes, "I wasn't crying." He said in his defence, "I just had something in my eyes that's all."

The second prince laughed, "Sure you did little brother. So what is it?"

Caspian watched as Edric's form immediately took on a more serious look about it, "One of the watchmen has sighted our lord father's escort in the distance. They will be here in a manner of minutes."

Caspian felt his lips thin across his mouth before he nodded grimly, "Come along then. We should go greet my mother and siblings." He noticed his bastard brother become markedly more uncomfortable, "What is it? Are you worried about what she will do? Don't worry about such a thing alright. King Robert was as much your father as he was mine, I won't let her do anything, not in _my _castle."

Edric shook his head, his long black hair swaying with the movement, "It's not that. It's just that the watchman didn't see your brother's or the queen's standards on the procession."

"What?" Caspian was dumbfounded, "I can somewhat see it with my mother but not even Joffrey, Tommen or Myrcella?" Edric shook his head once more. Caspian felt his lips thin themselves once more as he went into deep thought, a frown on his face, "My mother better have a reason for this. She is always one to try and keep images in public, what would people say if they learned that she didn't attend her own husbands funeral? Let alone not allow his three children?"

Edric shrugged his shoulders, not having an answer to the questions that had been asked, although Caspian hadn't been directing them at him in the first place. They had been nothing more than rhetorical questions.

Caspian sighed as he re-sheathed _Stormbringer_ and placed it back onto its place, "What about my nuncles?"

Edric shook his head, "We haven't heard any word from them. It seems they won't be attending the funeral."

A morbid smile came across Caspian's face as he shook his head, "I can't really say I'm surprised to be honest. The Baratheon brothers have never been friendly with each other." But then again, his father didn't make himself any favours with the way he had treated said brothers over the years. He turned and made for the door, "We might as well go and make the honour guard. Let's go." Edric nodded as he followed after his older brother, closing the door behind him.

XxX

Caspian stood at the steps that led into the large and only single building within Storm's End, waiting for his father's body to be interred into the ground. Beside him, standing as his equal was his bastard brother Edric and to the side, his sworn sword Asher Sand along with the Kingsguard knight that his father had decreed was to be with him at all times wherever he went, Ser Arys Oakheart along with the castellan of the castle, Ser Cortnay Penrose. He waited at the steps for his father's body to arrive with a solemn look on his face. His father had been determined to be buried with House Baratheon's ancestral home and not be laid inside the Great Sept of Baelor like other previous monarchs. The prince couldn't help but wonder if this would serve as a precedence for other future Baratheon kings to be buried in Storm's End instead of the sept.

All the preparations had been done previously and thus the inside the walls of Storm's End, everyone from the lowliest position to the lord of the castle himself stood at attention waiting for the king's body to arrive. It seemed as if the gods had allowed today to be blessed with a reprieve from the sudden storms that occasionally assaulted the Stormlands to allow the mourners to mourn in peace.

Many of the bannermen of the Stormlands had come to say their goodbyes. Some had send their condolences via raven as they couldn't attend because of one thing or another, one of those being unable to attend being his great-uncle who couldn't make the journey due to his old age.

Many knights had also come to say their goodbyes to Robert, ranging from Bryce Caron, Balon Swann, Guyard Morrigen among many others.

When the gates opened to allow the entourage of Baratheon guardsmen and knights to carry the casket into the castle, heads bowed when the first horsemen trotted into the massive castle grounds and made their way towards the steps, the Baratheon banners fluttering to a limp as they stopped dancing in the wind when the they entered the large castle walls that surrounded the large drum tower that seemed like a fist rising high into the sky to punch it.

When the carriage carrying the caskets came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, the knights dismounted and Caspian walked down the stairs to the casket and placed a hand onto the smooth, wooden casket, that was the closest and last chance he was ever going to touch his father again. He motioned towards Edric to do the same, he was much a father to Edric as he was to himself.

The casket was then moved to the sept inside the castle were a service was taken by the High Septon, a rather squat and ponderously fat man with grey hair held the service and made his prayers along with the people in attendance. Caspian couldn't help but wonder how such a supposedly religious man was so wide in girth.

Weren't priests supposed to be humble people?

The casket was then moved to the underground crypts where it was interred for burial, the High Septon saying a few more prayers as he blessed the casket and prayed for the soul of the first Baratheon king.

After that, the party made their way back to the Great Hall in relative silence for the feast that was to be held afterwards. Like his father's wishes, the boar that had torn him from navel to nipple had been lathered in butter and spices with an apple in its mouth and cooked to a crisp, ready to be eaten by the guests and Caspian couldn't help but admit the boar was the tastiest thing he had ever tasted.

The meal was neither too grim nor outrageous but seemed to meet somewhere in the middle to make a balance of the two as the lords and ladies present ate in the memory of the king. Eventually, knowing that it was expected of him, Caspian rose to his feet and prepared to make a toast.

He cleared his throat to gain the attention of the others present and the room went deathly silent as eyes were trained on him, _Alright, I can do this. Make a speech, how hard can it be?_ He encouraged himself, for this was a first. He had never made a speech or a toast and he had certainly not been expecting this, "My father did not die in the manner someone would think befitted a king, especially one of Robert's temperament, hells, I always expected him to die of old age with a fair maiden's mouth around his cock," A round of laughter went through the room at the rather vulgar quip but for those that knew the king, they expected as such, "I think he thought as much too. I certainly didn't think a rampaging boar was the creature in this world of ours that was going to take him down. I'll be the first to admit, he might not have been the greatest of kings, he whored around, drank too much, ate too much but then again, after Aerys, he might as well have been a damned saint. Years from now, I'm not going to lie, he's probably going to be remembered as the Whoremonger King, they can call him whatever they want, for I for one don't care. I'll always remember him as the man who won three battles at Summerhall in a single day, the man who slew Prince Rhaegar Targaryen at the raging waters of the Trident, the man who freed us from the reign of a king who filled many of us with terror," _All because of a girl, mind you, _" Who forced Balon Greyjoy to kneel at Pyke, the man who brought us sixteen years of peace and prosperity..." He paused for a bit, "But that was interrupted by the Greyjoys but fuck them anyway," Another round of laughter went through the Hall, "So let's raise our cups to the first of the Baratheon Kings. To Robert, the First of His Name!"

Cups filled with mead or wine were hoisted into the air by the knights, lords, ladies and servants that were in the Hall, "To Robert, the First of His Name!"

XxX

Catelyn

"We'll be there soon enough my lady." Catelyn heard one of the knights of Wyman Manderly said as they neared Moat Caitlin. She had only landed in White Harbour a few weeks prior only to learn from the fat Lord of White Harbour that her son and the acting liege lord, Robb had summoned the banners to rendezvous at Moat Caitlin.

Instead of heading towards Winterfell to check on her two youngest children, she had decided to journey towards the old moat and meet up with her oldest who was seemingly marching to war. Her child, _No, he's no longer a child now._ She thought to herself as the Moat Caitlin came into sight.

Ahead of her, the remaining towers of Moat Caitlin came into view, immense blocks of black basalt, each the size of a crofter's cottage, laying scattered and tumbled in the bog, half sank. There was nothing left of the curtain wall that had been as high as that of Winterfell's and what was left of this great stronghold of the First Men were three towers.

As she got closer, she was able to make out the standards that were breezing freely at the top. The Karstark standard flapped around atop the Drunkard Tower, the giant in chains of House Umber did the same on the Children's Tower and the direwolf of House Stark danced freely and alone on the Gatehouse Tower.

_That's where he is._ That was were her son had made his home for now. Catelyn spurred her horse on with her entourage and her uncle, Brynden Tully, the man known as the Blackfish, a seasoned and veteran warrior of renown throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

"He moved fast." She heard her uncle say as they neared the stronghold. She had to agree, as they neared the ancient stronghold, she could see that on the other side of the neck, levies and horses marching towards the other side of the neck and the Riverlands.

"Lord Wyman did say that Robb had instructed the bannermen to prepare themselves for a quick levy when the call came. He made the moat the meeting place." Catelyn answered. She hoped her son was still within the stronghold. She had to see him before he marched off to war.

Not long afterwards, they were directed towards the room where Robb had taken his seat, just at the end of a war council. The lords greeted her as they left the room and Catelyn looked around and noticed that she didn't see all the faces of House Stark's bannermen.

She would have to ask about that, but first, she made her way towards her son and hugged him, "_Mother_?" Robb breathed out when he found himself in her embrace.

They pulled apart and Catelyn took a long hard look at him, "You are growing a beard?" She asked as she looked at his stubbled jaw with a raised eyebrow.

Robb began to awkwardly rub at his jaw, "Yes." His red whiskers were brighter than his hair, which made for a particular sight, a sight which he seemed to be well aware off, "If Caspian saw it, he would be makings japes of it until the ends of time." He finished with a chuckle.

Catelyn frowned, "Do you realise you might have to fight him if you carry on with this?" She asked. She had seen her son and the second prince together and knew that they were both good friends, one could say to the same degree that Robert and Ned were. After his year with them, the two kept in contact, intermittent as it was and the young prince would occasionally come visit whenever he could for a few days at most.

Robb straightened his face as he gave a sincere nod, "Yes. I know, it's war and we're going to be on opposite sides. I have been preparing myself for it."

He was resolute and determined in his course of action. That was good. He couldn't waiver on his path. She led him towards the table, "So tell me, where is Lord Glover and Ser Tallhart? I did not see their faces among the lords."

"I send their men ahead." Robb was quick to answer. He noticed the look his mother had on her face, "In lord father's message before he was arrested, he told me that grandsire Tully may need help in holding the Golden Tooth. Lord Glover and Tallhart were the quickest to raise their banners, so I send them with 2,000 of our men to reinforce Nuncle Edmure's own forces that are to overlook the Golden Tooth for a Lannister host."

Catelyn smiled, "Your lord father did have a good head for warfare."

Robb then looked at his mother intently, "Do you still hold the Imp?" He questioned.

Catelyn's lips thinned across her mouth as her own nuncle answered, "Unfortunately, the gods deemed the Imp to be released for his crimes." He answered, his mind going back to the Trial by Combat held at the Eyrie.

Robb's own lips mirrored that of his mothers before rising from his seat, petting Grey Wolf as he did so, "You know...about father?" He asked.

"Yes." Catelyn did not allow her voice to waiver, she would not show fear in front of her son. She didn't want him to carry any more weight upon his young shoulders, especially that of a mother's wish. The news of Robert's sudden death and Eddard's fall had terrified her more than she could ever imagine, "Lord Wyman told me in White Harbour. Have you heard any word from your sisters?"

"There were letters." Robb replied, scratching Grey Wind underneath his jaw, "One for you, and one for me." He went towards his desk and rummaged through maps and papers before finding a rumbled up parchment of paper, "This is mine, I never thought to bring yours."

There was something in her eldest's voice. That she knew. She could tell. She smoothed out the letter and began to read it. At first, disbelief came to her mind, then it changed to anger and then lastly, fear, "This is your sisters writing, it certainly is, but the words she is writing are those of Cersei's." She said when she was done, "It's a threat. They hold Sansa hostage, all this talk about how she's being treated fairly is empty...it means to tell us that Sansa's circumstances can change at the drop of a hat and they mean to keep her."

Robb was miserable, "There's no mention of Arya."

"No." She didn't want to think about it, not here, not now.

The auburn head lordling took the letter and crumpled it up, not for the first time by the looks of it, "If you still held the Imp, I would have thought of a trade of hostages..." He said before his eyes rested on his nuncle who had stayed quiet throughout, "I sent a letter to Aunt Lysa, does she mean to call her banners?" He asked.

Unfortunately Brynden shook his head, "My niece seems content with staying in the Eyrie behind her Bloody Gate. She isn't going anywhere."

Robb grimaced, "Mother, what are we going to do? I did as father asked and summoned the bannermen, 24,000 thousand men answered the call," Many more would have answered, but it would have taken too much time to gather the full force of the North, "Including some of the mountain clans. But I don't know what to do...what am I supposed to do?" He asked, the uncertainty in his voice palpable.

Catelyn looked at her child. The proud young lordling that she had seen when she entered the room had now wilted away to be replaced by a fifteen year old boy, his eyes glistening in the low light and uncertain.

It would not do.

Especially for a commander.

"What are you so afraid of Robb?" She asked gently.

"The Lannister's hold father...they will kill him won't they?" He said. He opened his mouth to say add to his sentence but stopped and kept numb on whatever he wanted to say.

Catelyn could guess as she had thought of the same thing as well during the journey to Moat Cailin, but Caspian was only the second prince, she doubted he could make any or influence decisions on what happened to her lord husband. He would surely protest, but it would be out of his hands.

"They want us to think so." She finally said.

Robb looked at her with slightly hopeful eyes, "You mean they are lying?"

She gently shook her head, "I do not know Robb. But I do know that if you go to King's Landing to swear fealty, they will never allow you to leave and if you turn tail and run back to Winterfell, you will lose the respect of yours lords. Some may even go to the Lannisters. Then Cersei, with much less to fear could do as she likes with the prisoners. Our _best_ hope is that you are able to defeat them in the field, if you take the Kingslayer or Tywin Lannister hostage, then a trade is very well possible. As long as you have power, Cersei will fear you and will not do as she likes with your sisters and father."

"What if the fighting _doesn't_ go for us?"

Catelyn took in some air, "Then remember the fate of Rhaegar's children."

That seemed to shock him enough to bring back in that confidence of his back into his eyes, "Then I will not lose."

She smiled. Brynden took the lull in conversation to voice a question of his own, "Can you tell me of the fighting in the Riverlands?" He asked, some worry in his voice over his family's lands.

"Less than a fortnight pass, a battle was fought in the low hills of the Golden Tooth," Robb began, "Uncle Edmure had sent a force led by Lord Piper and Lord Vance. He had managed to raise 7,000 men for the force and with our own 2,000 I sent to reinforce him with." He frowned at that and Catelyn was quick to notice.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Lord Glover and Ser Tallhart never met with them."

Brynden was quick to realise why, "...The Twins..." He said in a half-growl.

Robb looked at his great-nuncle and nodded his head, "Lord Frey has been...less than accommodating and thus those 2,000 men have been camped on the wrong side of the Green Fork. I intend to march out with the rest of the troops and see if we can figure out a way to pass. Aren't they grandfather's bannermen? Why would they bar us from helping kin?"

Catelyn had something of a sour look on her face as she spoke, "Lord Frey...is a prickly person. He only moves when it is beneficial for him."

"He waited until the Robert's Rebellion had all but been won before he mobilised his bannermen and levies." Brynden cut in, "Never liked the man."

Robb frowned before speaking about the fighting once more, "The Kingslayer and his host fell upon him with a far larger host than that of Lord Vance and Piper. Lord Piper was slain and Lord Vance is heading towards Riverrun with his remaining forces to join nuncle Edmure and the rest of his other bannermen. Also, behind the Kingslayer's host is another host being led by Tywin Lannister, much larger than the Kingslayers."

Robb then continued telling them of other battles he had learned off during his time at the moat as he waited for the rest of his banners. His lord father had sent one of the marcher lords, Lord Beric Dondarrion to try and capture or kill the Mountain that Rides after he had started running rampant within the Riverlands, but had been lured into a trap by the Lannisters.

"Lord Tywin has closed off the kingsroad and marches towards Harrenhal, burning as he goes." Robb finished off with an uncomfortable sigh.

_Grim and grimmer_. Catelyn thought, "Do you mean to meet him here?"

"If he comes that far. Father had already sent word to Howland Reed to bleed the Lannisters dry if they began to make their way up the Neck. No-one thinks he will though, they think Lannister is too smart for that and will keep along the Trident, taking castles as he goes."

The idea chilled Catelyn to the boy. This was her boy, her fifteen year old boy, what chance did he have against seasoned battle commanders like Jaime and Tywin Lannister, "Can you not stay here? It is said that the Northern Kings of old could hold Moat Cailin against ten times their numbers."

"Yes, but its not easy living off the bog. Our supplies will eventually starting running low. We've stayed here for as long as we have because the banners had been preparing for war ever since I received the letter from father."

These were the lords speaking instead of her son. She had played host to many lords in Winterfell and she very much knew when one of them spoke and they were all speaking through her son.

She wondered if Robb knew this, "Then what do you mean to do next?"

Robb frowned as he looked down at the map, "The Greatjon thinks we should take the battle to Tywin Lannister and surprise him, but the Karstarks and Glovers think that it should be wiser to swing around and them and march on the Kingslayer." He leaned away from the map, "But I am...uncertain."

"Then _be _certain." Catelyn said sternly, "Or go home and take up that wooden sword again. You cannot seem indecisive in front of people like Roose Bolton and Rickard Karstark. These are not your friends, but your bannermen. You made yourself battle commander, so _command._"

He looked startled, as if he couldn't credit what he had just heard from his mother before nodding his head, "As you say mother." He looked at the map once more and concentrated, "Before leaving, I'll leave a small garrison of men to old the moat. Our last reports suggest that the Kingslayer is marching on Riverrun to besiege it and Tywin Lannister on Harrenhal, but word from Grandfather Hoster told us that the warning from father had made it so that they were prepared for conflict. Lady Whent was able to call up her own forces but decided to stay in Harrenhal after receiving word of Tywin's march on her castle..."

Catelyn nodded, "Good, what then?"

"Tywin can't march forward without Harrenhal untaken, so he will try and take it. She will be able to hold out until relief comes, I could send my foot and some of my horse down the Green Fork towards the Ruby Ford and strike at Lannister whilst he besieges the castle."

"Who will you send?" Catelyn asked, her eyes looking over her son.

She watched as Robert pursed his lips in thought before looking up towards his great-nuncle, "Nuncle Brynden, you wouldn't mind leading the foot along with Roose Bolton would you? You know the Riverlands better than Roose, your input would be valuable."

Although she couldn't see him, Catelyn felt her nuncle nod his head behind her, "I would be more than willing too. What will you do?"

"I'll take the remaining horse and race towards the Twins, then make way for Riverrun. It would depend on the gods if the Kingslayer beats us to the stronghold and even if he does, we will be able to strike him from behind his siege lines." Robb finished off, seemingly rather proud of himself as he looked up at his mother.

Catelyn scrunched up her nose slightly, "You will have to deal with Lord Frey."

Robb lifted his head to look up at his mother and gave her a confused expression, "He is your lord father's bannerman is he not? Surely he will allow us to pass."

From behind her, she heard her nuncle hold back a snort, a snort of derision most likely, which brought more confusion to Robb's face. She gave a fierce look at her son, "He is, one of the strongest too, but my father doesn't trust the man. Nor should you."

Robb nodded as he took in his mother's words, "I won't. So what do you think?"

Catelyn looked at her son, looking him over, _He looks like a Tully but he is Ned's son after all. "_Nuncle Brynden and Roose Bolton will take the foot and horse, so I take it you'll command the rest of the horse?"

Robb nodded, his auburn hair swaying with each movement of the head, "Yes. I'll give the commands to set out and I'll sort out an escort for you back to Winterfell."

No. Catelyn did not think so, not one bit. She had fought to keep herself strong. For Ned's sake, for her father's sake and for this stupid, brave son of hers. She will not be going anywhere, not until she had the rest of her family back, "I am not going to Winterfell." She said resolutely, gaining a look of surprise from Robb by the look on his face, "My father maybe dying behind the walls of Riverrun and my brother is surrounded by foes. I do not think so."

XxX

Caspian

"Burning letters?" Asher asked as he sat relaxed on a chair, his legs hoisted onto a nearby table. Caspian could feel Asher's amber eyes on his back and knew that he was skinning an apple as he had walked into the room with only an apple, "People burn letters when they want to hide something, what is it that you want to hide exactly?"

Caspian threw the remains of the letter into the air and watched it as it floated to the ground whilst burning at the same time, "I'm not hiding anything." He answered as he continued to gaze at the letter. His mismatched eyes watching the fire engulf the last remains of the white parchment of paper with some amusement before it turned into black ashes that fell to the floor, "It was from Arianne."

That seemed to catch his sworn sword's attention as a glimmer came into his eyes, "Oh, a love letter? Tell me it's a love letter. Did she describe in detail of what she was going to do with you the next time you two have another of your meetings?"

Caspian turned to look at dark-haired man and gave him a look, "No. It was just condolences for my father's death." He said, before giving continuing to stare at Asher, "What is wrong with you?"

Asher gave him an indifferent look and shrugged his shoulders, "I'm Dornish." Caspian continued to look at him as his answer didn't at all answer anything, "I'm surprised though. Your father isn't exactly a loved man in Dorne...I expected people would be more than willing to celebrate his passing rather than give their condolences."

Caspian allowed a laugh to escape his lips as he agreed with the former sellsword, "I think in some places, people actually _are_ celebrating. The whole of Dorne would celebrate though if grandfather just curled up and died."

"Even more if it's a Dornishman who caused the Old Lion to curl up and die as you said so yourself."

Caspian looked at his sworn sword with a curious stare. The people of Dorne had always been crying out for vengeance or justice for Princess Elia and her children. It seemed to be something that was just natural in the minds of the Dornish, "Wouldn't you celebrate too if my grandfather died?"

Asher raised his head and looked at his lord with an amused expression, "You should know by now I'm indifferent to quite a lot of things. I don't particular care about one thing or another. It just isn't in me to hold for something that happened outside of my control and anyway, I don't like living in the past. I prefer living the present."

"Well, that explains why you haven't tried to kill me in the years you have known me."

"Mostly because you are by far the best paying employer I have ever worked for."

Caspian smiled as he took a seat opposite the man, "Of course I am."

"Now enough of this serious talk," Caspian heard Asher talk with a hidden tone to his voice, "Why don't you tell your favourite swordsman about your little love with the Princess of Dorne?"

The second prince grimaced as he looked at the former sellsword. Love? Yeah, no. That was a no, "I hope you are joking. Me and Arianne aren't together because of feelings or anything like that. We aren't even together. We just prefer the company of each other's body."

"So no marriage plans, babies in the works?"

The prince shook his head, "Nothing like that. I enjoy fucking her, she enjoys being fucked by me...well, she tells me she does. I'm sure she's trying to work some kind of angle somewhere." He shrugged, "I don't particularly care though."

A knock on the door attracted Caspian attention along with that of Asher's as they turned to look in the direction of the door where a steward had entered. He bowed before the prince and the bastard, "Sorry to interrupt my lord, but you have a visitor." The steward said as he rose from his bow.

"Who?"

"Your uncle, Lord Renly."

Caspian raised an eyebrow before motioning the man to bring him in, "Uncle Renly huh? I wonder what he wants."

"Maybe he's here to pay his respects?" He heard Asher suggest, "Although it does strike it as odd as to why he didn't come to the funeral itself with the rest of the procession that brought the king's body here."

The prince couldn't help but agree, "It does, doesn't it?"

The door to the room opened once more and in came in his uncle, dressed in gowns of green that showed off his deep blue coloured eyes. His long hair was neatly combed to the side and his face cleanly shaven.

_He looks like the type of person who would spend the same amount of time a woman takes to get ready._ Caspian rose from his seat and made his way towards his nuncle with a smile on his face and gave him a hug, "Nuncle, it's been a while. Did you come here to pay your respects to father?" He asked, before noticing that behind Renly and also entering the room was Ser Loras Tyrell, _Of course he would be here too wouldn't he? They never seem to be too far apart. _"Ser Loras, no hard feelings I hope for the result of the tourney?" He asked as he separated from his nuncle.

Loras had a smile about him that showed that he was still smarting over the result, that or the memory caused such a reaction, "No, you were the better knight and you won fair and square my prince."

Renly cast him a gentle smile, "I have already been in the crypts and paid my respects to my dear brother."

Caspian nodded his head and motioned them to take a seat, giving a mental nod when he saw that Asher had the sense to remove his feet of the table. He might have been living in this castle for several years now occasionally, and it was as close to home as he would like it, it still technically belonged to Renly.

Caspian took his own seat and looked at his nuncle, "Father to be done in by a boar. What a farce."

"We can't always choose the way we die." Renly said, a smile on his lips.

Caspian couldn't help but laugh, "That's true I guess. So how is the capital? Has Joffrey been coroneted yet? You must be looking forward to that like you are looking forward to taking a bath in acid." He watched as Renly and Loras cast a look in each others direction and raised an eyebrow, "What is it nuncle?"

"Well..." Renly began, seemingly trying to search for the words he wanted to say, "I haven't been in King's Landing for quite a while now. I have been in Highgarden."

"Highgarden?" The prince repeated with a raised eyebrow, "There's nothing strange about that, so why the uneasiness?"

It was Loras who spoke, "We came here to ask you to kneel to your king."

Caspian looked at Loras then to Renly, "I'm sure Joffrey is king..."

"Joffrey is a monster."

"Congratulations for figuring that out, would you like a prize?" Loras gave him a hard look that Caspian didn't bother even registering before setting his eyes at his nuncle, "You crowned yourself king and let me guess, Highgarden and the Reach are supporting your claim?"

Renly nodded unabashedly, "Yes."

Caspian didn't understand it, "What the fuck?" He let out in confusion and amazement, "You are fifth in line, just what sort of dumbass logic did you spout to Lord Tyrell _and _Lady Redwynne to actually allow this? What you are doing is treason!"

Loras had set his golden eyes on Caspian with the same hard look, "Renly is deserving more of the throne than your brother."

"_Anyone_ is more deserving of the throne than my brother." The dark haired prince nearly whined before catching himself, "But you don't see people raising a banner of rebellion to steal a crown that's not rightfully theirs."

Asher decided at that moment to voice his own thoughts about the matter, much to his wards annoyance, "Didn't your lord father do the same thing?"

"Different circumstances." He replied, waving the question away with a movement of the hand. He looked at his nuncle with a straight look in his mismatched eyes, "You can't do this nuncle. A number of people are going to die, for what? You want to be king? Because you know how to dress and talk?"

Renly didn't seem to care much as he rose from his seat, "I have already decided nephew. If you bend the knee, I'll name you my heir until I have children of my own."

_You? Heirs? Yeah right._ "Nuncle Stannis has a far stronger claim than you."

"But he doesn't inspire loyalty." Renly countered, "He's too stiff and rigid, he would drive the kingdoms into the ground if he was ever made king."

"And of course that makes you a better choice of being king than nuncle." Caspian said with a roll of the eyes, "I'm not going to bend the knee to you nuncle. If I do so, I know I will have to fight against my family."

"I am your family."

"I like my little brother and sister more than you. Sorry."

Caspian's mismatched eyes locked with the deep blue of his nuncles as they started an invisible battle of wills. Caspian smirked in victory as Renly was the firs to relent and make for the door, "I will be calling my banners. I shall give you a week to leave the Stormlands for King's Landing."

Caspian felt a wicked smile come across his lips, "_Your _banners? I think you misunderstand something nuncle. Whilst you had been serving as master of laws in King's Landing, who do you think had been entertaining your so called bannermen? Me, and all of them are more than smart enough to know your claim to the throne is about as strong as a branch. The Storm lords have more brains than those of the Reach by the looks of it, especially that oaf of Highgarden." He heard a growl escape from Loras' throat, a growl that was definitely send in his direction, "You have no bannermen here, you should be the one leaving the Stormlands within the month. You can take Ser Cortnay with you too, you have an extremely loyal man there."

Asher seemed to coil and ready to move in the case Loras did try something against his charge, but he didn't have to move as Renly placed a hand on his shoulder. Caspian watched his nuncle give him one last look before he left, "I'm their liege lord, they will follow me."

"Get out my castle nuncle." Caspian said with finality, "Call your banners, see how many actually answer the call."

Those were the parting words between the two and after they had left, Caspian had found himself entering a cold fury. Yes, he knew Joffrey was a monster, but he could be reigned in if he went to far. There was no need to start a civil war to dispose him, other ways could have been looked to, to remove him, a Great Council for example if he went too far.

There were far more pressing issues that had to be dealt with and his nuncle was about to usurp the throne because he felt he should be king instead of Renly? No doubt Loras watered the idea that was already in him. The seed had already been in Renly, it existed in every person that existed.

The name of that seed was ambition and ambition could ruin and create and thanks to his nuncle, it would ruin the Seven Kingdoms, that he knew.

Caspian had a frown on his face, "...I'll need to get a message to King's Landing and call the banners."

Asher raised a curious eyebrow, "You technically don't have banners. They never swore fealty to you."

The prince cast a look of amusement to his sworn sword, "Well, let's find out shall we?"

* * *

**AN: Just made a minor change. Caspian's sworn sword's name from Marko to Asher. My friend and fellow game of thrones enthusiast pointed out that Marko isn't much of a name...just Marco with a K and Asher rolls of the tongue better in my opinion.**

**Also, here are the ages:**

**Robb/Jon - 15**

**Caspian/Joffrey - 14**

**Sansa - 13**

**Arya - 11**

**Well, enjoy.**

**TheForeverKing**


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Game of Thrones/A Song of Fire &amp; Ice_

* * *

The Lost Knight

Ser Barristan had arrived at Storm's End in the middle of the night. He had taken to great pains to make sure that when he sat off for his journey towards the seat of the now Crown Prince Caspian Baratheon and according to the last will and testament of King Robert Baratheon, the rightful ruler of Westeros.

He found himself wondering what would have happened if Cersei had followed her lord husbands' will. He doubted the realm would be split into war as it was now. He was confident the boy king would have been able to stay the blades of all the participants.

So there he stood, within the solar of Prince Caspian, waiting for the young prince, amidst the crackling of fire in the lit hearth in the room. He could feel the ambient heat in the room slowly drying his wet body and feeling him with warmth as he had arrived at the castle in the middle of a storm that gave the Stormlands their name.

He didn't have to wait for long as the prince soon appeared from his private room. He turned and looked at the boy. He had last seen him more than a month ago during the Hand's Tourney, but he found himself taking in his changes.

It wouldn't have been noticeable months ago, but now it was. The young prince's hair had started greying early in his life, this he knew for he always saw him pull out the occasional grey hair out of his messy mane of midnight black hair, but now, his hair had more strands of silvery-grey hair than he had last seen.

He bowed with his head, "Your Grace."

"Ser Barristan," The prince said in return of his greeting, "Nice of you to visit so late at night."

Barristan stood straight, "My apologies Your Grace, I would have waited till morning but I thought fit to come at once. I did not mean to disturb you in your rest."

Caspian waved at him dismissively, "Don't worry about it, I wasn't sleeping anyway. Care for a drink?" Barristan shook his head and the prince nodded as he poured himself a cup of wine, "So what is so important that made you ride here to the Storm's End in the middle of a storm like this?" As if to accentuate his point, thunder and lightning boomed and flashed from outside, the sound of heavy rain battering the shutters and windows.

"News of grave importance, Your Grace."

Barristan noticed Caspian give him a strange look before the prince spoke once more, "You keep referring to me as 'Your Grace'. I'm a prince, I know, but you should know by now I don't like being referred to as such. Stuffy titles like that are not really my strong suit."

"It's the only way one could refer to their king." Barristan replied.

Caspian frowned before shaking his head, "I'm not king. My brother is, gods have mercy on us all." He heard him mutter underneath his breath, "And to make it worse, my mother is Queen Regent is she not? As if things weren't bad enough."

Barristan kept himself from voicing his own thoughts at the matter but spoke on the subject that he had travelled south for, "According to the last will and testament of your lord father, he named you his heir and thus King of the Seven Kingdoms."

That seemed to bring a look of shock onto the young prince as he stopped and gave him a slightly widened eyed look, "My lord father? Me? Heir? I'm the second born."

The old knight nodded his head, "I was there when the will was read out. He named you his heir."

The prince scrunched up his nose, "And since I'm not king, I take it my lady mother ignored the will and proceeded with making Joffrey king did she not?" Barristan gave a nod of his head, "I thought as much. She always did love him more than me." He gave an uncaring shrug at the matter, "Well, it doesn't matter to me and there is nothing I can do about it as it is. My brother will be coroneted and be king...well, one of two kings anyway." He finished with a light laugh.

"Your nuncle, Lord Renly." Ser Barristan said as he realised who the prince was referring to.

"The one and only." Prince Caspian said with a nod of the head. He took a drink of his wine, "Apparently, the line of succession matters little to him. Now he's crowned himself King with the backing of Highgarden and the Reach and bringing war when we should have our thoughts on far more important matters."

Ser Barristan gave the prince a curious look, "You do not know?"

The prince cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, "Do not know what? I have been holed up in Storm's End for a while now. So I am a bit out of touch with the rest of the world. The only thing I do know is that my nuncle called his bannermen and none of them answered the call, that's about it. I was preparing to call them myself to get ourselves prepared to help my brother stay on that ugly throne of his."

A grave look came onto Barristan's face, "The North and the Riverlands are plagued in with war against your grandfather, Your Grace."

The Prince nearly choked, "What? Why?" It was then Ser Barristan saw the Prince finally take in his appearance in its full entirety. No doubt, he noticed the beard that he had begun to grow and his haggard appearance, "...You are not in your armour." He finally said.

The old knight nodded his head, "I have been...relieved of my duties as a knight of the Kingsguard and Lord Commander. The reason being that I am far too old to protect your brother, Your Grace."

"Kingsguard knights can't be relieved of their duty." The prince quickly fired out, "And who the hell is stupid enough to relieve _you_ of all people of your duties as Lord Command-." The prince stopped before sighing and finishing off his wine and placing the cup to the side, "Never mind. I think I just answered my own question." He went to take a seat, "I think I already know, but do you know who replaced you as Lord Commander?"

"Ser Jaime." Barristan tried to hold back the contempt he felt when he said that name and he thought that had done a fine job. He had also fought himself not to call the man by his other name of Kingslayer in front of his kin.

The prince sighed as he leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, "I thought as much. So tell me again why my grandfather is fighting in against northmen and riverlanders?"

"Lady Stark arrested Tyrion Lannister and it seems Lord Tywin moved to punish the Riverlanders for the action." He saw the confused look on the prince's face and ventured to answer the question that might come out of his mouth, "Unfortunately, I do not know why Lady Stark arrested Lord Tyrion."

Caspian slowly nodded his head, "Okay, that explains that, but what about the North? Why are they marching south?"

"My guess would be to free Lord Stark."

The prince gave him a blank look with those mismatched eyes of his, "What?"

Ser Barristan went into further details, "Lord Stark was accused of treason by Queen Cersei and arrested."

A look of disbelief came onto the prince's face, "Treason? Eddard Stark? I don't believe that for a second. The man has too much honour to even _think_ about treason. He would rather die than commit such a crime, or any crime in general."

The old knight shared the same view but he did not voice it. At the time of his arrest, he had been sworn to serve and protect the king and his family. The queen had given orders and he had already been conflicted on whether to carry them out.

The prince rose from his seat, "I need to go King's Landing. I need to go now and get to the truth of this."

Barristan took a step forward, "Before you go Your Grace," He called out before drawing out his sword and dropping to a knee. He held out his sword, "If you would take me, I would be more than willing to become a sworn sword of yours. You are someone I would gladly follow."

He felt the prince's eyes on him before hearing a sigh, "Stand up Ser Barristan. You are a great knight, one of the best surely, but I cannot take your sword."

The words hurt him more than he thought. Had his hopes been futile?, "May I ask the reason why?" He asked as he got to his feet.

The prince laughed bitterly, "Because I think too much. That's my problem. I try to seem indifferent to the world, but I always think too much." His eyes settled on Barristan, holding some sadness within them, "I would gladly take you as my sworn sword, but if I did, what would the people think if _I _had Ser Barristan Selmy riding alongside me, instead of my dear brother? Not good thoughts I tell you. More trouble would be born from it than I would care too imagine and my brother has always been...jealous or paranoid of me one of the two, maybe even both. He would think by getting your support, I am after his throne. He will do something rash and stupid which would end in unnecessary blood being shed, there's already enough blood that's going to be spilt in the coming days, I rather not be the cause of more."

Ser Barristan had always thought he understood the prince standing in front of him, the black sheep of his family compared to his siblings. He had thought of him as lazy, uninspired and unmotivated but at the same time oddly charismatic with an inner strength to him and of keen intellect, no doubt an intellect that had been natured and honed by Tywin Lannister during his time as his squire and ward, but at this moment, he knew he had barely scratched the surface when it came to the young man in front of him as shown by now. He was wiser than his years showed. He should have known when he had been able to dissuade his lord father and the small council from assassinating the Targaryen girl.

He was wiser beyond his years and all because he thought too much.

"And what I should do with myself Your Grace?" Ser Barristan finally asked, "I am a knight, an old knight, but being a knight is all I have been for decades. That is all I know, and a knight cannot be a knight without service to a lord."

Ser Barristan found himself at the end of a sincere smile from the prince that shook him to the core, "Then go find a lord that you would serve happily and without reservations."

He was speechless, "My lord?"

The prince had a knowing look in his eyes, "When I was a child growing up in the Red Keep, I had this hobby of watching people. I kept watching people, and as the days passed, I became better at understanding them. I am no master, but I know people. You are an honest man Barristan Selmy, an honest, honourable man, but it makes it easy to understand what lies beneath. Although you served my father as a Kingsguard and Lord Commander, you still had reservations about how the war ended, maybe because you felt that you should have died in the war like the previous generation of Kingsguard knights or because you were forced to work alongside my nuncle and knights who weren't fit to wear the White Cloak. You find me worthy of following, I am happy about that, but you have still to find yourself. Go, travel the world, find that lord you are willing to serve whole, and if you can't then you can come back, and only then will I take your sword as my own."

Ser Barristan gave a long hard look at the young prince. He found it somewhat disconcerting that the prince was able to dig so deep, even though they had only shared a few conversations with each other, "And if I refuse?"

The prince quirked an amused eyebrow, "You would refuse an order from your prince? That's not very like you."

It wasn't, but he had wanted to know. He bowed, "Thank you Your Grace, and I hope we meet again in the future."

The prince yawned, "Knowing how the world is, we probably will."

XxX

Tyrion

Tyrion waddled towards the small council chamber with a confident swagger about him. It made for an awkward gait, but as he was now, he couldn't find it within himself to care. His darling lord father had finally decided to give him a chance to show him what he was capable of by giving him his first grasp of power, the position of Acting Hand of the King whilst he handled the war in the Riverlands.

He was confident he could pull it off, and that he was going to use the entirety of this chance to prove to his father that he was the rightful heir of Casterly Rock. His sweet brother Jaime had discarded his birth-right when he had taken the vows to become a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, yet even then, his lord father did not look towards him or announce to the realm that he was his lawful heir.

Instead, he went towards his sweet nephew Caspian. He loved the boy, he truly did, the fact that both of them could be considered black sheeps in their respective families. Tyrion because he was a dwarf and Caspian because he wasn't able to gain the love of his mother and had consequently stopped caring about gaining his mother's love.

He was sure that Cersei loved all of her children, just she couldn't love Caspian in the same way as the others because he had the _wrong_ father. He found it rather amusing that the only protection she had against people noticing something was off about the rest of the royal children was her black haired son.

Eventually, he came to the chamber doors and found himself in a rather chilly game of 'who will look away first?' with the Kingsguard posted outside the door, Ser Mandon Moore. His lovely older brother had once told him that out of all the kingsguard, Ser Mandon was the most dangerous, because one would never know what he will do next.

Tryion gave him a crooked, sweet smile as the knight towered over him, "Look here, I have a letter from my lord father, your Hand of the King, I have rather quite the urgent business with the council and queen."

"Her Grace does not wish to be disturbed." Ser Mandon said, repeating the same line that he had said when Tyrion had first arrived requiring access.

By now, this entire stand-off was starting to get to him. He couldn't walk away because if he did, what would that say about his authority, so he decided to introduce Ser Mandon to the two companions of his that stood behind him, "Ser Mandon, have I ever introduced you to Timett, son of Timett, a red hand of the Burned Men and his lovely friend Bronn? And whilst we are at it, have you ever heard of Ser Vardis Egen, captain of Lady Arryn's household guard?"

Ser Mandon only took a moment to raise his eyes to look at Tyrion's acquaintances before speaking once more, "I have. What of it?"

It was Bronn who answered, with a smile on his face, "He's rather dead now."

Ser Mandon didn't say a word and sensing a change, he decided to press the advantage, "Be that as it may, you wouldn't mind and let me through would you? I have a letter of importance in my hands which should be on the other side of this door." He said before quickly amending his statement, "Along with me of course."

Ser Mandon kept quite before placing a hand on the door. He looked down at his small frame, "You may enter." He then looked back up to Bronn and Timett, "They may not."

Tyrion could have skipped into the room, he felt almost tall. When he entered the room, he saw the five members of the small council deep in conversation, his sweet sister, Pycelle, Littlefinger, Varys, and some frog-faced man he had never seen before, _Someone clearly brought on by my sister to replace the recently departed Lord Stark._

The discussion immediately came to a grinding halt when they heard the pitter patter of feet coming their way, "You." His darling older sister said, her voice equal parts distaste and disbelief.

"Yes, me." Tyrion returned with a crooked smile on his face. He stopped to examine a pair of valyrian sphinxes that he had nearly missed, "I see where Joffrey learned his courtesies. Clearly not the same place Caspian learned from."

Her sister seemed to ignore his words, "What are you doing here?" She demanded, her voice giving no quarter.

"Delivering a letter from our dear father, sweet sister." He said as he sauntered towards the table before placing a rolled up parchment of paper onto the table, "I thought you might like to read it. For posterity."

The eunuch took it within his hands and began to examine, "How kind of Lord Tywin and such a lovely shade of gold for his sealing wax." He said, his powdered hands continuing to spin the rolled up parchment around, "Looks every bit genuine."

Cersei snatched it out of his hands, "Of course its genuine." She said as she unrolled it and began to read it, her face taking on a look of disbelief with each word wrote, "Father cannot be serious!"

Whilst she had been reading the letter, Tyrion had gone and taken the seat designated for the Hand, noticing that his sister had taken the seat for the king. It didn't take long for him to surmise that Joffrey never attended any of his council sessions in person, "Father is always serious sweet sister."

Cersei discarded the paper to the side, "It seems my lord father has sent us my brother to take his place on the small council until a time comes when he can join us."

Grand Maester Pycelle stroked that snow white beard of his as he nodded his head ever so slightly, "It seems a welcoming is in order."

"Indeed." The frog-faced man said. Now where did he remember him from? Oh yes, the City Watch Commander, Janos Slynt if he remember correctly, "These are terrible times indeed, rioting in the streets, rebellion everywhere and that grim omen in the sky."

"And who's fault is that exactly Lord Slynt?" Cersei snapped, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the gold cloaks are charged with keeping order are they not?" She didn't wait for an answer as her emerald eyes snapped towards Tyrion himself, "And for you, I think your skills are better served for us on the battlefield."

"I do hope you are joking sweet sister." Tyrion said with a half-smile, half-laugh, "I think I'm rather done with battlefields to be honest. All that killing, all that dying? And let's not forget the screams and wails of the dead and dying. I think not. I ride a chair better than a horse. Although after the treatment of the Vale of Arryn, the battlefield isn't such a bad place."

Littlefinger laughed, "Ha, well said Imp."

Tyrion cast a glance in the master of coin's direction and lingered on his form. He had not forgotten the stunt that the man had pulled. They will have a talk about that, sooner or latter they will have a talk, that was for certain.

"Please do let me be of service," Tyrion finally said, "In whatever _small _way I can."

Cersei looked at him, "How many men did you bring?"

"A few hundred. My own men chiefly, father was rather loathe to part with his own. I do believe he is fighting a war last time I checked."

"What use is a few hundred men when Renly marches on King's Landing from Highgarden or when Stannis sails from Dragonstone?"

Tyrion perked an eyebrow up his forehead, "Stannis? What about Stannis? Last time I checked, he hasn't risen up in rebellion."

It was the eunuch that answered, with a rather plump smile on his face, "I have heard whispers about the man hiring sellsword and sellsails from the Free Cities and continent. One wouldn't be buying themselves an army unless they are planning to do something."

"He might very well be raising an army to come to the defence of his king. What makes you so sure he's going to move against us?"

"He hasn't bent the knee to Joffrey." Cersei answered.

_If he comes to King's Landing, I doubt Stannis will ever leave._ Tyrion mused when he saw the look upon his sister's face, "Well, that is a point I concede." He looked around at the other lords in the room, "Speaking of which, I didn't see my favourite nephew enjoying his name-day celebrations with his brother."

The eunuch gave him a smile, "Prince Caspian is currently in Storm's End."

That brought all sorts of alarms to Tyrion's mind, "Is he a hostage? Did Renly capture him?" He noticed the tightening look on Cersei's face at the mention of her second son, _Did she not ask about him?_

The eunuch allowed a soft laugh to escape from his lips, "Hostage? Oh no my lords. It seems that when Lord Renly called for his banners, none answered the call. They are seemingly loyal to the prince."

Tyrion couldn't help but laugh, "Well, I'll be. He managed to steal Renly's own bannermen from underneath him? I knew I always liked him for a reason."

"Pycelle," Cersei quickly said, frantic, "Send a message to Storm's End at once commanding Caspian to bring a host to King's Landing to help defend his king and brother. _Now_."

Pycelle was startled but was quick to get on his feet, "As Your Grace commands." He said with a bow and quickly made for his tower as fast as his age could allow him too.

_Now she needs him_. Tyrion mused, but the question was, would Caspian answer the call? He knew of his nephew's feelings for his twin brother and lady mother and that wouldn't bode well, _But he would come for Tommen and Myrcella, he loves them far more than he loves his brother or mother._

"My lords, if you wouldn't mind giving me a chance to talk with my darling sister in private would you?" He asked the remaining lords of the small council presence.

The small council members acquiesced to his request to leave him and his darling sister all alone, "Well now sister, how have you been?"

Cersei cast him a dry look, "Pleasantries? I could claim this letter a forgery and have you thrown in the dungeons."

Tyrion suddenly found himself walking on thin ice, this he knew. His sister had always been a prickly person when it came to him, but he had something she didn't have. The love of her son, the one with the army, "You very well could, but I doubt Caspian would be pleased with that, especially if I die in those dungeons. He's rather fond of me, I wonder why?" He finished, holding both a knowing glimmer in his eyes and a knowing smile on his face.

He saw Cersei's face tighten as it slowly went red, "Watch your words, you _monster_." She seethed ever so quietly.

Tyrion just smiled at her, her words having no effect on him, not anymore they didn't, "Don't you want to see Jaime again?"

His sister fancied herself subtle, but Tyrion had grown up with her. He knew from the back of his hand her nuances, every single one of them and on her face, he saw fear, and rage, then finally despair, "Jaime-."

"-Jaime is my brother, as much as he is yours." He cut in, not allowing her to finish, "Give me your support, and I promise you I will bring back our beloved Jaime unharmed."

His sister was sceptical, and it showed on those beautiful features of hers, "How?" She asked, "I doubt the Stark boy and his mother will forget that we beheaded his father."

"True," He agreed, "But the Starks love their children. We hold his daughters. I saw the older girl out in the front with Joffrey."

"Sansa," She said, "I've given out that we have the younger brat as well, but it's a lie. I sent Ser Meryn to get her, but her dancing instructor interfered and the girl ran. She's most likely dead, a lot of people died that day."

He had hoped for both Stark girls, but he supposed one would do. So he turned to another matter, "Now do tell me about our friends on the council."

Cersei gave him a look, "Why? What about them?"

"Father seems to have taken a dislike for them. Father knows that your sons' short reign has been filled with follies and disasters. This suggests someone on the council is giving him very bad advice."

Her eyes widened slightly before giving him a searching look, "Joff's head no shortage of good counsel. He's always been strong-willed, now that he's king, he thinks that he should do as he pleases not as he is bid."

"Crowns do, do the strangest of things to the heads underneath them." Tyrion agreed, "The business with Eddard Stark, Joffrey's work?"

The queen grimaced, "He was instructed to pardon the man and allow him to take the black and then possibly afterwards, we would have been able to make peace with that son of his, but he decided to give the crowd a better show. What was I supposed to do? He called for Eddard Stark's head in front of half the city." Her face tightened and so did her hand, "The High Septon proclaims that we profaned Baelor's Sept with blood after lying about our intent."

Tyrion hummed, "He might have a point. And this _Lord_ Slynt, who's idea was it to grant him Harrenhal and name him to the council?"

"Littlefinger made the arrangements. We needed Littlefinger's gold cloaks. Eddard Stark was plotting with Renly and we might have lost all if not for Sansa."

That caused him to raise eyebrows, "Really, his own daughter?"

"The girl was wet with love. She would have done anything for Joff, well, anything until he had her father's head cut off and called it mercy."

"Ah, King Joffrey, the First of His Name, he certainly knows how to win the minds and hearts of his subjects." He mused with a crooked look, "Was it also his idea to dismiss Ser Barristan?"

Cersei sighed, "Joffrey wanted someone to be blamed for Robert's death. Varys suggested Ser Barristan and why not? It allowed Jaime to become the Lord Commander and for the Hound to be given the cloak. Joff had always been rather fond of him."

Tyrion sighed as he rubbed his forehead with his stubby fingers, "You didn't think this through did you, dear sister?"

Cersei's face reddened as she cast him a pointed look, "Watch how you talk!"

Tyrion raised his hands, "My apologies, it's just that the smallfolk hold Ser Barristan in the same manner as Serwyn of the Mirror Shield and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. What do you think they would do if they saw or learned of him riding alongside the likes of Renly?"

Her face lost its red colour after that as she had a dumbfounded expression, "I...I did not think about that."

_No you certainly did not._ Tyrion thought to himself, "And that is why I'm here. Father sent me to put an end to these follies and bring Joffrey to heel."

"Joff will be no more tractable to you than me."

"Because he know _you_ would never hurt him."

Cersei's eyes dangerously narrowed, "If you think I will allow you to harm my son, you must be sick with fever."

Tyrion sighed. She missed the point, she always missed the point, "I would never dare harm my nephew, but as long as he feels that I _would_, he will be more inclined to listen." _Even more so if Caspian is here. Joffrey had always felt threatened by him and not incorrectly as well. _He took her hand, "Your son needs me whether you like it or not, if you dare hope to retain that ugly iron chair."

Cersei seemed shocked that Tyrion would even touch her, "You have always been cunning."

He gave her a crooked smile, "I do try."

"It maybe worth trying...but know this, if you are going to be Hand, you will be Joff's Hand only in name, but _my _Hand in truth. You will share all your plans with me and you will do nothing without _my_ permission. Is that understood?" She gave him a stern look.

Tyrion nodded his head, a smile on his face, "Of course dear sister." He said, lying to her face, _And she wouldn't even know it._ That was the problem with her. She never knew when to take people's word for truth or lie, "Now that's over and done with, I have a question, who killed Jon Arryn? Joffrey had Eddard Stark killed, Littlefinger gave us the comely Slynt and Varys the dismissal of Ser Barristan, but we have yet to learn about Arryn."

Cersei yanked her hand away from his, "How should I know?"

Tyrion took on something of a hard smile on his face, "The lovely, grieving widow seemed to think it was me. Where did she come by that notion I wonder?"

"I don't know. That fool Eddard Stark seemed to think it was me as well. He hinted that Jon Arryn suspected...or believed that..."

"You were fucking our sweet Jaime?"

She slapped him.

He felt his cheek throb angrily in a stinging pain. He could feel it turn red, "Did you think I was as blind as father. Who you lay with matters not to me...although I do find it unfair that you would lay with one brother and not the other."

She slapped him again on the other cheek. At least she had been kind enough to not slap him on the same cheek, that would have increased the pain tenfold...a slight exaggeration but not unwarranted.

"Be gentle Cersei, it was only a jape. Truth be told, I would rather have a nice whore. Never did see what he saw in you other than his reflection."

She slapped him again for the thrice damned time.

His cheeks were red and burning, one more so than the other, "Well that was fun." He said, a smile on his face, "Now onto Robert, how did you kill him?"

Cersei scoffed, "He did it himself. When Lancel learned that he was going for the boar, he gave him the strongwine, fortified to be three times as strong. He could have stopped any time that he wanted too, but he drained one wife and told Lancel to fetch another. I would have loved to taste that boar."

"Yes..." Tyrion drawled, "Pity they took it along with his body to Storm's End." They were attracted to the door of the council chambers as it opened and in came someone that Tyrion was rather glad to see. That was until he saw his expression which was deathly lacking of any expression, _Oh, he's angry. Very, very angry._ Tyrion smiled, "Why hello there nephew, we just sent a raven for you."

Caspian turned his mismatched eyes towards the mismatched eyes of Tyrion and they brightened ever so slightly from the cold, hard fury they were burning in, "Nuncle, did you enjoy your trip to the Wall?"

He had to be careful here. Caspian was about as insightful as his lord father, "Oh it was just lovely. Now what is the matter? You can't be stew in anger like that, it's not very healthy."

Caspian continued looking at him before sighing. He ran a hand through his midnight black hair dotted with snow-white strands of early greying hair, "Okay, I might have been a little angry."

Tyrion smiled, "Yes, you Baratheon's are rather known for your mercurial anger problems."

His nephew snorted in amusement, "Not as bad as my father." He said before his eyes turned towards his mother, he bowed with the head, "Mother, I see you are well."

Tyrion watched as Cersei made towards him, intend to hug him but noticed him shy away from her touch. That seemed to break Cersei's heart and it showed, but Caspian seemed to not particularly care, _You lost you chance with him years ago Cersei. As far as he is concerned, you are the woman who gave birth to him, nothing more, nothing less._

Cersei managed to catch herself quickly enough, "Did you come here to congratulate your brother on his coronation?" She asked.

Caspian gave her a look, "No." He answered bluntly, shocking the others.

"No?" Cersei repeated, quick to get over her shock but it still showed on her face.

The now Crown Prince shook his head, "No. I actually came here to get some answers to several things."

Tyrion waddled towards his favourite nephew, "Such as?" He asked.

Caspian held up a finger,"Firstly, why mother thought it was a brilliant idea to dismiss Ser Barristan from the kingsguard and as Lord Commander. I thought you were smarter than that mother. Ser Barristan is a living legend as many are concerned. What would they think if he rode with Lord Renly?"

Tyrion had to hold back a smile on the red faced look on Cersei face. No doubt feeling embarrassed at the fact that another person was finding her dismissal of Ser Barristan fool hardy.

She looked away shame-faced, "It was Varys' suggestion."

Caspian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "Varys huh..." And like that, he didn't follow through with any further questioning on that matter and moved on to another, "Then what about Lord Starks' arrest."

At that, all of Cersei's previous vigour returned, "He tried to steal the throne!"

"According to Ser Barristan, lord father named me as his heir and you didn't want to hear a single word about it."

That caught Tyrion completely by surprise, "What?" He let out dumbly. He quickly turned his head towards her, "Cersei, is this true? Did Robert name Caspian his heir?"

"Of course not!" She snapped angrily, "Caspian is the second born. Barristan was just bitter about being let go. He just wants to cause friction." She placed a hand on Caspian's cheek, which greatly discomforted the young man by the look of it, "Don't believe his lies Caspian. You are the second born, why would Robert name you his heir when your brother Joff is the first born?"

_Because the throne is actually his, instead of that bastard boy of yours._

Caspian moved the hand away from his cheek, "I doubt Ser Barristan would lie. He is a man of honour and he wouldn't seek me out to lie to me. I'm quite insightful and know when someone is trying to play with me." _Like you_ where the unsaid words that rang throughout the room.

Cersei frowned, "You would believe that man rather than your own mother?"

"You have never acted much of a mother to me." Caspian was blunt in his words, blunt as a hammer and that hammer fell heavily on Cersei. He looked way from his mother toward Tyrion, "Uncle, how much do you know of the fighting in the Riverlands?" He asked, swiftly changing the subject and moving away from his mother.

Tyrion sighed as he cast one last look in his sister's direction, _You brought this upon yourself Cersei. You should have known something like this was going to happen the way you treated him._ "Come with me nephew, and I'll tell you everything I know. There is somethings that you must know." He said as he waddled towards the exit, glad that Caspian had slowed himself down to walk beside him nuncle at a reserved pace, "And whilst we are at it, you will have to tell me when and where you met Ser Barristan."

His nephew shrugged his shoulders, "That's easy enough to answer. He wanted to enter my service as his sworn sword."

"You refused him didn't you?" Tyrion asked as he glanced up to the four-and-ten old boy. He saw him nod, and Tyrion smiled, "Good. I doubt your brother would have stayed quiet if you had Ser Barristan in your service. You always did have a good head on your shoulders. Now all we have to do is hope that he doesn't enter the service of Renly."

Caspian snorted in amusement, "My nuncle is a pompous ass. Ser Barristan would rather be a hedge knight than serve underneath him, and the man is more than smart enough to know that he is nothing more than a glorified usurper."

"Much like your father?" Tyrion asked, a wry grin on his face.

Caspian returned it, "Much like my father, but some would say that he had good reason to usurp the throne."

"That they would."

XxX

Sansa

She had found herself spending much of her time in her chambers. It was the only place that she could be truly alone. She was allowed to roam the castle grounds, but she would always have an escort to make sure that she didn't try to escape.

She had to laugh, how could she anyway? They were guards in crimson and gold posted at the gates and drawbridge, she would never have been able to escape. And afterwards, then what was she supposed to do?

She had heard of the fighting up north in the Riverlands. The roads were now dangerous, if she tried to make her way towards her brother's forces, she would surely die or be taken captive or worse.

She shuddered. She didn't want to think about.

All she could do was pray and hope that her brother would win and save her. Save her from this hell that she was suffering from.

How could she have thought Joffrey was beautiful and gallant and everything a prince was? He was a monster.

A knock on her door attracted her attention. She quickly got up from her seat and made sure that she was presentable before answering, "Come in." She said, she tried to make her voice as normal as possible.

The door opened and a familiar face entered her room. She wanted to run to him and hug him, cry, anything, until she realised he was a lion.

Caspian gave her a solemn smile and a wave of the hand, "Hi there."

Sansa curtseys. A lady had to be kind and know her manners, especially one that was to be queen, "Prince Caspian." She noticed him frown, did she do something wrong? Gods, she hoped not.

She watched him close the door behind him and entered the room, "I heard about your father, how are you doing?" He asked, his voice was gentle, kind and held concern for her.

But she knew better. She had to be on her guard. He was a lion, "My father was a traitor. He deserved his punishment."

He frowned again, "My mother and brother have trained you nicely haven't they?" She heard him mumble. He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mop of hair. She noticed the snow-white flecks that were in that sea of black, they added a certain quality to him, "You don't have to be on guard with me Sansa. I'm a friend of yours remember? No harm of you will come from me."

It was a trap. They were just waiting for her to slip, "Is that so my lord? Thank you my lord."

He kept frowning and then her heart started beating when he started walking towards her. Did she do something wrong? She was kind and never said anything bad. She then found herself in a one handed hug, her head resting in the cradle between his neck and shoulder.

There was something familiar about this and before she knew it, she cried.

"There, there," She heard him say softly, stroking her hair, "Let it all out. I'll look after you, I'll make sure that nothing happens to you. It's the least I could do for Robb and then when I have sorted out this entire mess, I'll send you home."

Then she remembered, he wasn't a lion. He was a stag.

She had said so herself back in the tower that day. She remembered.

_A stag. _She thought, _He's a stag._

* * *

**AN: I have always wondered what R+L=J meant and I've learned it means Rhaegar + Lyanna = Jon. One of his supposed parentage theories. I never involve myself in things like this, but I have to admit, I have my money on this theory rather than the Ashara Dayne one. Prophecies and a bunch of other things included.**

**I think the only person who would know is Howland Reed and he has yet to make his appearance. Maybe he will when Georgey boy decides to grace us with the next instalment. Four years, fuck. I could have done a lot of things by then.**

**On a side note, for someone as great as Rhaegar, he clearly did not think through the whole Lyanna Stark thing did he? Whether he kidnapped or eloped with Lyanna, what did he think people would do, just let it go? She was betrothed to someone else and her family thought her kidnapped...and he didn't even factor in his crazy father...**

**And onto another thing, instead of heading towards the Trident, he could have easily deposed his father from the throne, he was liked and sane wasn't he? People would have been happy to see Aerys moved to the side and there would be nothing the crazy old man could do about it but instead he marched off to his death.**

**Talk about a plot hole right there.**

**Well, later.**

**TheForeverKing**


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice &amp; Fire_

* * *

Caspian

Caspian could be found sitting on one of the benches in one of the many royal gardens as he overlooked his younger siblings play with each other. He would have joined them, but there were many a thoughts that were plaguing his mind and he didn't want to seem absent minded whilst he played with his young siblings.

Like he had thought previously, his nuncle Renly had proclaimed himself king with the support of Highgarden and the Reach. Although the prince was particularly sure that the entire alliance had been orchestrated by Ser Loras asking his father to support his lover rather than common sense. His nuncle had then proceeded to strengthen his alliance by marrying Margaery Tyrell, the Maid of Highgarden and Lord Tyrell's beloved daughter.

Caspian felt like laughing sometimes when he thought of the entire situation. If Mace Tyrell thought of seeing someone of his blood seat on the Iron Throne, then he was gravely mistaken. He wondered if his nuncle had yet to claim the maid's maidenhead, _Unlikely. The man is a sword swallower through and through._

But whether the marriage would result in a heir was inconsequential. His nuncle was marching on King's Landing, although at a frighteningly slow pace, holding feasts and melee at every crossroad and castle he comes across, it still posed a problem.

His nuncle had a hundred thousand man behind him and at best, the loyalists had at best, forty-five thousand soldiers to call upon from the Stormlands and Crownlands, _But some of the more craven or pragmatic Crownlanders will probably side with my nuncle, he does have the largest army compared to everyone else._

His grandfather was tied down in the Riverlands and reports had shown that although this was Robb's first taste of war, he seemed to know what he was doing. He had been able to lift the siege of Riverrun whilst at the same time, capture a number of highborn Lannister hostages, his nuncle Ser Jaime included and all but destroy the fifteen thousand strong host his nuncle commanded.

He wasn't particularly sad or frightened by that news. He was never close with his nuncle, they just had an amiable relationship and that was about it.

Then his grandfather had been forced to retreat from the siege of Harrenhal when he heard news of his sons' defeat and scouts reporting a northern host coming down the Green Fork to relieve the siege of Harrenhal. His grandfather could have made for the Crownlands, but that would have left the Westerlands undefended and ripe for an invasion and the Old Lion wasn't going to have that.

He therefore elected to retreat back towards the Golden Tooth, razing farmlands as he went. That brought a feeling of annoyance and exasperation from the Crown Prince. He knew that it was war, but he couldn't help but cry out within his head because what his grandfather was doing fool hardy.

The Riverlands were the second most fertile land within the realm and they needed the crops that the region provided for the coming winter, for he knew that this near decade long summer will have to come to and end at some time in the future. He had furiously penned a message to his grandfather upon learning this, imploring him to stop the razing of the farmlands.

He didn't know whether his message reached the man or not, but he figured he will learn soon enough in the future.

Another interesting development was that his gracious brother had given him the lordship of the Stormlands and had him named as the Warden of the South, citing the treachery of House Tyrell as his reasons. Caspian was more to believe that his nuncle Tyrion was behind this, probably his mother as well, rather than being the brain child of his loving older brother.

And he had given him the titles ever so lovingly.

A cry went out. Caspian raised his head and saw Myrcella quickly rising up and shaking her hands with a disgusted look on her face. He quirked an eyebrow, "What happened?" He simply asked.

His darling, younger sibling look at him with wet emerald eyes. She looked as if she would suddenly start crying, "I picked some flowers and I found a worm!" She nearly ended up balling when she spoke.

Caspian couldn't help but laugh, "A worm?" He asked in between his fits of laughter, "That's no reason to react like that. A worm wouldn't hurt you."

The young princess stopped looking like she was going to cry and instead had a pout on her face as she looked away from her brother, "You don't know that."

"I think I would." Caspian replied with an amused smirk and mirth within his voice, "I have found myself many a worms in my youth. Even ate quite a few."

He enjoyed the look Myrcella gave him as she recoiled away, "Ew. You ate worms?" She asked, a sour look on her beautiful features. Caspian would admit, his sister was beautiful, both in body and soul. She had their mother's looks but none of the personality.

_That will serve her well_. He mused to himself, _A kind and gentle nature would go a far longer distance than fear and cruelty._ If only his brother and mother thought as such, "Oh yeah," He said as he answered her question, "They taste rather nice too."

Myrcella looked like she was about to turn green. Tommen raised his head to look at his older brother, his plump features settling on him, "They do?" He asked.

A sly smile came spread itself upon the Crown Prince's lips. He nodded his head as his eyes glimmered in amusement, "Taste like a strange mixture between beef and chicken. You should try it, you won't ever regret it." He urged. Tommen completely adored him and Caspian didn't have to try hard to encourage him to do anything.

He watched as his younger brother seemed to debate on whether he should find a worm and eat it like he had asked him too, all the whilst Myrcella gave both of them pointed looks, "You can't be serious!" She quickly turned and looked at her younger brother and placed her hands on her hips, her expression stern, "Worms are dirty Tommen! Don't eat one, it might make you sick." She looked at her older brother, "Tell him!"

Caspian still had that smile on his face. He would have answered if it wasn't for the fact that he felt someone approach instead of the guards that overlooked them. He turned his head to the side and his smile dropped ever so slightly, "You should listen to your sister Tommen. You shouldn't eat things you have found on the ground."

The youngest of the Baratheon children had a confused look, "But you said..." He trailed off.

"I know what I said," Caspian admitted, "But I don't think our mother would like it if by the chance you actually went ill because of some bad advice from your older brother."

"And what advice is that exactly?" Said mother asked as she walked into the garden. She took a look around and noticed the state of her two youngest, "Look at you two, you have dirtied your clothes."

Myrcella gave a proper curtsy to their mother, "We were picking flowers mother."

"Is that so?" The queen said before her eyes lingered on her second oldest, "And what did your brother telling you exactly that you wanted to do?"

Tommen was quick to answer, "He said that he ate worms back when he was a child and that they tasted like chicken and beef!"

Caspian had to admit that he enjoyed the bewildered look on his mother's face as he looked away trying to hold back the sniggers he knew that were coming, "Please don't try and convince your brother to that disgusting habit." The queen reprimanded, her voice stern.

The prince shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture, "I can't promise anything."

Cersei frowned before moving and taking a seat beside Caspian. She watched as Tommen and Myrcella resumed playing with each other, going around the garden picking whatever flowers they came across that they found pretty or alluring to the eye.

The two stayed in silence before Cersei decided to break it, "So how goes the siege preparations?" She asked.

The prince panned his eyes to have a glimpse of his mother from the corners of his eye, "They are going well I suppose."

"That doesn't fill me with much confidence." His mother said, a slight frown on her face.

Caspian shrugged for his answer, "Renly would be foolhardy to march on King's Landing with his flank open from the Stormlands. He is no commander, but the Reach do have one in Randal Tarly." He then frowned as he thought about it, "I am sure by now that he has pointed that out to my nuncle-."

Cersei features tightened, "Don't call him that, he's a traitor."

"He's still my nuncle, despite his current status." Caspian shot back quickly. He sighed before going back to the original topic of the conversation. The quicker this went, the better, "I am rather worried that he hasn't split his force to go secure his flanks by attacking the Stormlands. Renly isn't that much of a fool to disregard sound suggestions by men who know better than him in war, that and also the fact that it's rather obvious that if he sieges King's Landing with his flank open, it doesn't matter how many numbers he has with him, it would more than likely end up in his defeat."

"I want you to call your banners and bring your army here to protect the capital and your brother, the king."

Caspian held back a growl of annoyance. Did she not hear him speak or did she miss the point that he was trying to show her, "My banners are best left to serve the role they currently have as of now."

"And what is that?" The queen asked, some bite in her voice, "To sit back in their castles whilst their king is attacked? I think not. Call your banners, command them to bring their men here. I command it as Queen Regent."

Caspian could have honestly palmed his face at his mother's ignorance, "Mother, I know what I'm doing leaving them as they are. I left them like that because they serve as a threat to Renly's flank _and _the Reach itself. If I ordered them to attack the Reach, the lords in my dear nuncle's army would turn around to try and go protect their lands." He glanced back to his siblings, "If it makes you feel any better, I'll have a thousand or so man march to King's Landing and bolster the gold cloaks."

The queen bit her lip, "A thousand? That won't do much if Renly throws all of his strength at us."

The gold cloaks had been tripled in size from the original two thousand, to six thousand in preparation for a siege and due to the fact that was the norm whenever it came to times of war. However, Caspian had his reservations about the city watch. He didn't trust this Janos Slynt, he acted just as dirty and ugly as he looked.

"It's far harder taking a castle than you think mother. If everyone does their jobs right, even a simple castle would be able to hold back a large force that outnumbers them."

It seemed with that said, she finally relented and allowed a silence to come across them. A silence that was as heavy and awkward. He doubted that his mother would have forgotten the words that he had said during his return to the capital in the small council.

"Caspian..." Once again, it was his mother who broke the silence, "I know I might not have been the greatest of mothers to you. I might have favoured Joff-."

"_Might_?" Caspian nearly hissed but managed to control himself, "There is no might about this mother." The subject made him want to rant and shout. To talk about all the times in his childhood that she always picked Joffrey over him, "You made it clear early on which one of us you preferred. Can we just not talk about this? I prefer the silence."

His words must have hurt her, like they had hurt her the days before but he didn't care. He had stopped caring years ago when he learned that she would never look at him the way she looked at Joffrey, or Tommen, or Myrcella. It hurt less for him when he learned to stop caring about his mother.

"You were always the stronger one." It seemed as if his mother didn't prefer the silence like himself. She continued to talk, her voice soft and holding untold amounts of regret, "Even when you two were born. Joff balled his eyes out when he came out of me and you barely a whimper. He was always sick in his first years whilst you were healthy and strong, like your father, Joffrey...not so much. I knew I didn't have to worry about you, and I was right when you two grew up. You were always quick to grasp what you were taught, Joff on the other hand always needed more coaxing than you." She said, a half-smile on her face.

Caspian turned his head to look at her, wondering where exactly she was trying to go with this. This bridge had been burned and destroyed years ago. It would take more than a heart-to-heart session to rebuild it, but if his mother was willing, he might as well lend an ear, even if the end result was already set.

"Joff always needed me, he would always chase after me. Never leaving me alone whilst you always went off on your own, disappearing sometimes for hours on end. You brought me no amount of relief I tell you, eventually, somewhere along the lines, I must have thought that you didn't need me and that my time was better spent helping Joffrey as much as I could." Her half-smile turned to a full smile that made Caspian realise just how beautiful his mother actually was. She was certainly beautiful and he knew at that instance she was the most beautiful woman in Westeros, the shining sun of the realm, "You had your father, Joff had me. I thought you would be fine, but I didn't know how I acted would drive you away from me."

Caspian frowned before looking away. It was true that he might have had his lord father, but his lord father was hardly the most ideal father or parent one would want. He had his shortcomings, even if the man loved him dearly. He would always need a mother and when he did need her, she spurned him away.

He remembered doing many a things to try and garner her love, to make her show the same affection she showered on Joffrey but nothing ever seemed to work, and he would then blame himself for it. He always did, he always thought that it was because the show of affection wasn't good enough and he would always try and make it better and better than the last.

A state of mind that soon followed him into his later years as he refused to simply let things be half-done and half-unfinished. He would always strive to see things done to perfection thanks to that.

But he eventually learned that it didn't matter. He had been smart enough to realise that nothing he would do would gain his mother's affection and so he gladly accepted becoming ward and squire to his grandfather. The man always looked like he knew how to control himself and Caspian wanted to know how to do that to.

To keep his emotions under control so that the hurt wouldn't hurt.

He rose to his feet, surprising Cersei as her hand had been stroking his cheek, something he had missed deep in his thoughts, "Where are you going?" The queen asked, looking up at her son.

The prince stayed quiet for a few seconds before answering, begrudgingly if anything else, "...To go check on the siege preparations." He said curtly before turning to walk away, not before giving his goodbyes to his younger siblings.

"Caspian," His mother's voice had been soft and quiet, but he still had been able to hear her and found himself stopping in his tracks to hear her out, "Do I still have a chance?"

Caspian tilted his head upwards ever so slightly to look at the blue sky and shrugged, "I have no idea." With his piece said, he continued walking away from the gardens.

XxX

Caspian hadn't made it far before he was graced with the sight of his brother. It seemed as of his coronation as king had already increased his own view of his self-worth as he strutted through the halls and grounds of the Red Keep like that of a peacock that was in the midst of preening. Behind him, like a faithful dog as ever, Sandor Clegane shadowed him, ready to protect him from any threats that may arise, his white cloak billowing behind him with his movement.

Sandor might have been an evil man, but Caspian felt even he didn't deserve the fate of looking after his older brother. It just wasn't worth it, no matter how good of a paying job it was.

When Joffrey's eyes finally saw the form of his brother, his face turned into one of thunder as he quickly stormed his way towards him. Caspian raised an eyebrow and mentally went through the things that he had done to aggravate his brother so, not including the fact that he existed, "_You!_" Joffrey hissed when he came to a stop in front of him.

"Yes, me." The Crown Prince returned with a quirked eyebrow of curiosity, "What is it? What imagined slight have I done now?" _Apart from being your better in every sense of the word._ He mused quietly to himself. He had to be more creative when it came to insulting his brother, him being king seemingly have done rather queer things to his measure of his own importance in the world.

Joffrey huffed like a child as he crossed his arms over his chest, "You had the heads of those traitors removed."

Heads? Ah, the Stark household. That had been one of the first things he had done when he had come to King's Landing. Ned Stark was a good man, he hadn't deserved what had happened to him, "What of it?" Caspian said.

It seemed his nonchalance at his brother was irking him as he balled his fists, "Who gave you the order and right to take them down?"

"Me." That should have been a suffice enough answer, but it seemed as if his brother would have deserved more than that, "The heads had already served their purpose. There was no need for them to continue being propped on the spikes." He had barely been able to recognise any of the faces when he first saw them. He had to ask one of the guardsmen whose heads they belonged to before learning who they were, "Also, I think the stink was getting to everyone." They hadn't even been dipped in tar to preserve them or anything of the likes.

"_I _am the king."

"Unfortunately, yes, yes you are." Caspian then found himself smirking, "Who finds himself in rather the most peculiar of positions. I mean, grandfather is off fighting a war that you started and can't be off any help, and the only other host within travelling distance of King's Landing is under the command of...who again? The name seems to escape me."

That seemed to steal the thunder from his brother as he looked at him with a shocked expression, "Y-You can't do that."

The Hound almost seemed amused by the interchange between the brothers, but then again, the Hound always had a look of amusement about him whenever Caspian interacted with his brother.

Caspian looked at his brother with a gleam in his eye, "Oh, would you be willing to risk your pretty little neck over it? I mean, Robb Stark might just do the same to you what you did to his father."

"His father deserved it. He was a traitor." He suddenly got a more confident look on his face, as if he had forgotten that the crown that sat on his head was all dependent on Caspian, "Soon enough, his head will be on the castle walls, along with that of nuncle Renly and Stannis."

Caspian frowned, "Nuncle Stannis isn't a traitor or a rebel."

"He hasn't bend the knee or come to serve his king." Joffrey replied with a smug look about him, "As far as I am concerned, he is a traitor."

Caspian sighed as he shook his head, "I can just tell you are going to have a long reign in the future, big brother."

His brother seemed to have missed the sarcasm within his last sentence as the superior look on his face might as well have increased tenfold, "Of course I am," He gloated, "The gods saw fit to declare so."

The Crown Prince looked at him with a look before an eyebrow raised ever so slightly in realisation, "Ah, the comet."

A self satisfied look came onto his brothers' face, "You mean _King Joffrey's_ Comet. The gods have seen feat to celebrate my ascension to the throne bit piercing the heavens with the red comet on my name day. Do you know what that means?"

Caspian gave his brother a curious look, "Not really, I particularly don't care. And by the way, _your_ name day? We share the same name day, no doubts with thousands of other people in the world. I wouldn't look too much into the comet brother, it might mean something, it might mean nothing." He gave his brother an even smile, "For all we know, if you are into the whole symbolism and superstition stuff, the comet might not have been intended for you, it might have been intended for me..." An angry look came onto Joffrey's face as it took on a red hue, "Or for the other hundreds of kings and queens in the world. You are not the only person in the world with the title of king." He finished with a smirk adorning his lips before he started walking away, "This has been utterly pleasant brother, let's not do this again."

XxX

Tyrion

Last night's dinner with the former Lord Slynt had been certainly been interesting so to say. Tyrion had come to learn many great things and whilst he was at it, had been able to put in his own, competent man into the position of City Watch commander and thanks to the fact that his favourite nephew always seemed to have a score of notable and reputable knights and skilled guardsmen travelling with him, the newest recruits of the recently tripled in size city watch were being rigorously trained in the art of combat.

He had a smile on his face as he broke his fast with said commander and his nephew, "The new recruits are doing better than expected." Ser Jacelyn said as he broke his fast with bread and fish. He glanced towards Caspian, "My thanks have to go to you and your retinue my prince."

Caspian as usual was rather casual as always, seemingly his mind elsewhere, "Tell me your thanks when they don't break to my nuncles superior numbers when he actually attacks us."

"And let's not forget the fact that your nuncle also has more knights and professional soldiers in men-at-arms instead of a hastily called conscripts." Tyrion chipped in as he placed his goblet of wine to the side, "I think I shall reserve my judgement for the gold cloaks after we are able to throw back the armed forces of the Reach."

Caspian gave him a look of amusement, "I hope you don't take this inspiring attitude of yours to the front lines. If you act the way you are talking, we will most likely win."

"I would feel much better about our chances if you would spare more than a thousand soldiers."

"Mother said the same thing, well, in the same vein." He said with a shrug, "And I'll tell you the same thing I told her, it would serve better if my dear nuncle thought that the Reach was gathering to attack his flanks."

Ser Jacelyn cast him a look, "And are you, my prince?"

His nephew looked right back at him, "Whether I call a host and attack him on his flanks is pointless. He would still greatly outnumber me and thus after the initial chaos, be able to rally his men to the threat...well, the commanders underneath him."

At the words of his nephew, Tyrion couldn't help but think of Renly's march. He was certainly taking his time the youngest of the Baratheon brothers and not only that, he was marching on King's Landing with his full force and hadn't even deigned to split his force to invade the Stormlands, to at least keep them busy and leave his flank protected or punish them for not answering the summons of their liege lord...there was something queer about that.

Especially with the fact that Randyll Tarly would definitely be one of the primary commanders of the Reach host.

He gave a wary look to his nephew, "Dearest nephew, but you wouldn't find it particularly strange that your nuncle marches on us yet he does nothing to secure his flanks?" He wasn't a soldier nor a general, but he had read his fair share of military books and he knew the basics of warfare.

The prince bit his lip in a manner of unease, losing his casual look for the first time, "...I have thought about it. It certainly can't be negligence on my nuncle's part. I think he is working some angle here that I can't particularly figure out." He shook his head, his mix coloured hair swaying with each shake, "Well, its pointless to worry about that at the moment. What we should be talking about is the city," He turned his attention to the other knight in the room, Ser Jacelyn, "So will the gates hold?"

The one-handed knight gave a nod of the head, "They are strong enough to hold back a ram until reinforcements arrive from the reserves or the other gates." He told them, "But the problem would be if Lord Renly attacks multiple gates at the same time."

"That would be something of a...problem." Caspian drawled in mild annoyance, "We won't have the numbers to hold back concentrated attacks on several individual gates."

"Then you can thank the gods that we have wildfire."

Everyone's eyes turned to face Tyrion who smiled knowingly at them. It was his nephew's sworn sword that spoke, "...Wildfire? That's the really flammable stuff isn't it?"

Tyrion bobbed his head up and down as he nodded, "The very same thing."

Caspian gave him a curious look, "You commissioned those old men in the Alchemist' guild to create wildfire?"

"Oh no, no, no." Tyrion said, shaking his head in the negative, his gold locks swaying with each shake. He then stared at his nephew with his mismatched eyes, "You can thank your mother for that, or your brother, but I doubt he has the necessary brain power for thinking up the idea."

Asher had something of an uneasy look about him, and it showed in his life. Tyrion could honestly say that he had never seen the sellsword look uneasy about anything in his life, "I do hope you are not planning to use that stuff in the battle."

Unfortunately, Tyrion had to dash those hopes down to the ground, "I do plan to use them. We have enough to put them on catapults and launch them into your uncles lines and drop them on catapults and turn them into burned out hunks of wood."

"That is a horrible plan." Nearly everyone said in unison. Tyrion just gave them a confused look, "You risk burning down the gates themselves, we might as well open the gates and wave them right on in. What do you think would happen if one of the defenders drops a some of the wildfire due to nerves in the middle of battle?"

The man known as the Imp merely smiled at them, "That is why only the ones with the deftest of hands will be allowed to handle the substance. We can't be having that can we?" The others still looked unconvinced so Tyrion continued speaking anyway, "The wildfire is the our only surprise wild card that may sway the winds of victory in our direction and keep your darling brother's arse on that ugly throne of his." He finished with a look in Caspian's direction.

"Ya~y," The prince drawled without a hint of vigour in his voice, waving an imaginary flag, "Because we all want that." Asher snorted in amusement although Ser Jacelyn did have a look of unease at the subject, "With that done. We need to talk about food."

Tyrion nodded, "I have already seen to that. I have hired a number of smugglers to bring in as much food as they can from across the Narrow Sea, ordered the building of more fishing boats and have granted access to any and all hunters willing to hunt in the kingswood."

Caspian leaned back in his chair, "That still won't be enough. If the people start starving, you will have your work cut out for you, hell, they might turn on the defenders and open the gates for the reachmen in hopes they bring food with them."

"They are more likely to bring steel and raping with them than food for them." Asher chimed in as he munched on a piece of bread.

Caspian shrugged, "Desperate times call for desperate measures." He looked up to the ceiling, "When I send the extra men, I'll have them also come with siege supplies from the Stormlands. It will be your job nuncle to see that it get's distributed evenly."

"I like that." Tyrion said with a nod of the head, "You leave that to me dear nephew." He looked around the group of people that were in his impromptu war council, "I think we have done great work here today gentlemen. I shall see that to it that the smiths and armourers increase their rate of production and the fletches fletch us more arrows. Gods I know we will need them."

Not long afterwards, the meeting and breaking of fast, he had said his goodbyes to all but one of his guest, Caspian and he knew that his sworn shield was probably lurking somewhere outside his current abode.

He smiled at his nephew as he waddled his way towards a seat, "So what can I help you with my sweet nephew?"

He saw Caspian grimace a little, "I wish you would stop calling me 'sweet nephew'. I'm not a boy of five years anymore."

Tyrion could only chuckle as he poured himself a goblet of wine, "You will always be a boy to me sweet nephew." Ah, how he remembered first seeing the boy when he first came to King's Landing. He had found himself instantly smitten with the boy. He had found himself knowing that like himself, he was never going to be fully accepted by his mother, that, and also because they shared the same problem when it came to the eyes, but his were far more comely to look at.

The prince rolled his eyes, "Whatever." His face then lost all its usual countenance of casualness and became rather stern and serious. Something he would not expect his nephew to actually be able to do, "So what can you tell me about this whole business with the gold cloaks?"

Tyrion found himself stopping his goblet of wine several mere inches away from his mouth. He didn't need to ask to know what he was referring too, "So you have heard about that."

A wry smile came onto his nephew's face, "Heard? It's the talk all around the city. The smallfolk talk about how 'The King kills babies.'" He scrunched up his nose in distaste, "Was it my mother or brother that sent out the orders to have all my father's bastard children in the city killed?"

Tyrion looked straight into the eyes of his own blood, "You know the answer to that, why bother asking me?"

He gave a shrug of the shoulders, "For confirmation I guess. I always knew my mother wasn't the nicest of people, but to order the deaths of my father's bastards because they are bastards..." He looked at him with a bewildered expression, "Why the hell would she do that? She had them kill _babies_. Does she want the smallfolk to turn against us? If so, she's certainly going the right way. I just don't understand _why_ she ordered it."

_Because they are a threat._ Tyrion thought to himself as he drank from his goblet, _Because if someone were to look closely enough, they would notice that three of her four children look nothing like their supposed father, but rather, like someone else._ _Let's not forget one of them could lay a claim to the throne...like Daemon Blackfyre._ "I can't exactly tell you that sweet nephew. I grew up with your dear lady mother, and even now, I still can't think of what exactly goes through her head sometimes. Sorry." He then gave his nephew a quick look, "I would probably leave your squire in Storm's End next time...just to be safe."

Caspian's lips tightened, "Mother knows that if she does anything to Edric or anything happens to him, she might as well forget about seeing any Stormland troops."

Tyrion's eyes widened in alarm, "Now, now, don't be hasty sweet nephew. You would live darling Myrcella and Tommen to the mercies of your uncle and reachmen?"

Caspian gave him an affronted look, "Of course not! I would take them with me!"

Well, that wasn't exactly what he was trying to go for, but at least he it was something. Still, he had to try and convince him to not abandon them, he would beg if he had to, "I know you Caspian, you might model some of yourself to be like my dearest father, but I know you wouldn't leave the innocent lives of the smallfolk to the mercies of the reachmen."

Caspian gave him a dry look, "...Shut up nuncle."

Tyrion smiled. He had managed to get to him.

XxX

The queen was not disposed to waiting for Varys, "Treason is a vile enough matter, but this?" She seethed furiously, "This is nothing more than a barefaced lie and villainy!"

Tyrion took the two letters that his darling sister was waving around angrily. He laid them side by side and compared them. They were of the same words, but were clearly written by two different people.

"Maester Franken received the first missive at Castle Stokeworth." The grand maester informed them, "The second copy came through Lord Gyles."

Littlefinger stroked his beard, "If Stannis bothered with _them_, then it's probably safe to assume that everyone in the kingdoms received one."

"I want these letters burned, every single one of them." The queen declared, "I want no hint of these letters to be heard by my sons' ears or my fathers."

Tyrion had a smile on his face, "One of your sons has already heard of it. He's right here." He said as he elbowed Caspian in the side.

The prince was looking at the letter with a raised eyebrow of curiosity, "Well, they are certainly...interesting." He mused, his voice betraying his actual thoughts on the matter, but Tyrion knew better. His sisters' actions before hand with the bastards will surely raise questions within the prince's mind.

Cersei quickly looked at her second oldest with a fearful look in her eyes, "Don't listen to these lies. It's now obvious who Stannis is really working for, nobody but himself. He is clearly after your brother's throne."

Tyrion had no doubts that when Cersei first learned of these letters and called for the small council, she had _definitely _not wanted Caspian to be here. It was unfortunate for her that when the steward came to summon them, Caspian had been with him.

And anyway, even if he hadn't learned of the letter from the small council meeting, he would have learned of it when he went back to Storm's End and by then, he would have known that he hadn't been summoned for a small council meeting discussing the letter and he would have been suspicious if anything else.

"I'm not mentioned in the letter." Caspian pointed out, "If he was after the throne, he would have included me along with Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. He even says I'm the only trueborn son of my departed father. How nice of him."

Littlefinger had a mocking smile on his face, "And do you believe this letter my prince?"

Caspian dropped the letter lazily from his hands and watched it lazily, float to the surface of the table, "Not really. Incest? My dear mother can be many things, but I don't think she would even go as low as fucking her own brother." He said with some sour tones in his voice at the notion of incest, "She isn't a Targaryen."

_Oh, if only you knew dearest nephew._ Tyrion mused to himself. He noticed a slight flinch in his darling sisters' eyes at the tone of voice Caspian had used, _Careful sister, you don't want to give too many things away in front of your honoured council, especially Caspian._

Tyrion looked at the letter some more, curious at a choice of wording he had never encountered before, "Done in the Light of the Lord," He read off the letter, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It's like us saying _written in the name of the gods_. They don't mean anything to us." Caspian chimed in, "Those words belong to followers of the red god R'Hllor. A rather new god spreading from Asshai to the Free Cities."

The grand maester gave the prince a curious look, "I am surprised you know of it my prince. Not many people know the red priests and their god this side of the Narrow Sea."

Caspian smiled, "Lady Selyse took up a red priest a couple of years ago. I met her there once, she tried to convert me, failed badly in her attempt, but I had to give it to her for her dedication. Odd lady, but rather beautiful one could say."

A sly smile came across Tyrion's face, "Oh, did you develop a little crush on a priest?"

He shook his head, "No. I said she was pretty, doesn't mean I fell for her."

"I'm surprised you didn't fuck her."

"Who said I didn't?"

Tyrion slowly turned his head to face him, his eyes slightly wide, "...A priestess?"

"I would hardly call her a priestess."

Tyrion could have honestly allowed cried with pride, "And this is why I like you so much dear nephew." He then noticed the gaping mouth of his dear sister and the red hue on her face. He smiled at her, "Oh, I do believe you will have to tell me details later sweet nephew. This clearly isn't the place to talk of such matters."

Cersei took that as a reprieve to close her mouth and quickly try to get back on subject, "W-We have to stop this filth from spreading any further. The council must issue an edict, any man caught talking about this filth will have their tongue ripped out."

"A prudent measure." Pycelle said, his chain clonking and clinking as he stroked his beard.

"Tearing a man's tongue out just proves you fear what he might be trying to say." Caspian said with a slight yawn, "You might as well be saying that there is something to be feared in the words of my dear nuncle."

"Then what would you have me do?" She demanded from her son, her lips curling in anger.

"Let them talk." Tyrion answered in the place of his nephew, "People will grow bored off it soon enough. Anyone with a thimble of sense would see it as a baseless accusation."

That seemed to calm her down, "Still though..."

Littlefinger spoke up with a smile on his face, "If I may offer a suggestion Your Grace, but we could counter this rumour with a rumour of our own."

That gained her interest as she looked at him, "Such as?"

"Fight fire with fire. If Stannis is accusing you of incest, why not we do the same? It is well known that Lord Stannis has quite the distant relationship with his wife. If we could put that his daughter is basebo-."

"No."

Littlefinger turned to look at the prince who had spoken up, "No, my prince?"

"Yes, no." Caspian repeated, "You can counter the rumour in anyway you want, but you leave Shireen out of this. The girl has already suffered enough as it is."

Cersei turned to look at her son, "Caspian darling, I know you are close with the your cousin, but Stannis started this when he accused me of incest and naming your siblings bastards!" She tried to persuade him.

The master-of-ships merely shrugged his shoulders, "It doesn't matter. Like I said, counter any the rumour any other way, but Shireen stays out of this." He gave a pointed look at Littlefinger, "If I _do_ hear of any such rumour Lord Petyr, Asher has quite the knowledge on a number of potions and other apothecaries that can make someone rather _uncomfortable_."

Littelfinger continued smiling at him, "My, if I didn't know any better, I would think that was a threat Prince Caspian."

Caspian merely waved him off, "You misunderstand me Lord Petyr. A threat implies an intention to inflict pain or other damages. Lord Tywin was more than capable to teach me that threats are pointless in the grand manner of things. It is easier to make it a promise than anything else." He gave Littlefinger a sweet smile, a smile that actually caused the man to drop his own mocking smile and a glimmer of fear to appear in his eyes, "What I'm trying to say Lord Petyr is that I don't make threats, I make promises."

And like that, the subject was dropped and other ways of countering the rumour were thought off. Tyrion couldn't help but look at his nephew who had after his little episode, had gone back to his default casual manner, _My lord father clearly taught you well didn't he Caspian?_ The thought made him filled him with some anger as he knew that Lord Tywin had intended for Caspian to inherit his birth right, Casterly Rock, but at least that was now pointless.

_It seems as if I have to thank Joff for something for the first time ever._ Tyrion mused to himself, _Naming Caspian Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was the best thing he ever did for me and he doesn't even know it._

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**_AN: Another chapter in a single day. Man I'm awesome. Well I hope you enjoy it boys and girls, have fun._**

**_TheForeverKing_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Shutouts!**

**CainTheFirstDemon: Yeah, I got that from the book. Nuncle is apparently medieval word for uncle and I'm trying to make my story as medieval as possible. Of course you are going to see the occasional modern term here and there, probably over there too, but I'm going to try and make it medieval as possible.**

**Legend3881: He isn't ignoring it. He just finds the whole incest accusation outlandish. If someone said your mother had an incestuous relationship with your uncle, would you believe it? And about the bastards, he knows of them, but he's only on good terms with Edric. How is he to know that his father's sperm is super sperm? He doesn't know that his Baratheon genes are dominant, so he's not ignoring anything.**

**Saint River: Details may come in the future mate...or maybe happen again ;)**

**Livelikeme123: Thanks bruh, I'll continue to make it as interesting as possible.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Fire &amp; Ice_

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Tyrion

Tyrion couldn't help but be impressed by the alchemists' and their work rates. They had only been commission just some few days prior yet they had been able to produce ten thousand jars of the flammable substance called wildfire. His nephew and the other principle commanders of the defense of the fine city known as King's Landing had their reservations about using such a destructive and uncontrollable element in such a key battle, but Tyrion would have none of it.

The wildfire was their one shot at victory...or even the tides as much as possible, because they needed every single trick they could come up with that would result in a victory for them. They were grossly outnumbered that it wasn't even funny to begin thinking about the numerical difference.

Even with the thousand men that his nephew had promised to send him and the additional sellswords that his own personal sellsword, Bronn, was gathering up, along with the Mountain Men that he had rounded up from his journey from the Mountains of the Moon, they were still suffering from a large numerical difference.

If only something good would happen for them, at least he would sleep easier, but at least he had Shae to make the nights go by easier. She was definitely one of the few bright spots that were currently in his life at the moment.

Tyrion waddled as he made his way outside the Guildhall of the Alchemists towards his litter. He said his farewells to the Alchemist known as Hallyene and made his way towards Timett, son of Timett and his fellow clansmen of the burned men. They may not have been the most organised of men, but they sure did their job well enough.

Just a few nights prior, when a mob had gathered outside the Red Keep chanting for food, his other nephew, the one that was King released a hail of arrows and then graciously offered them to eat their dead if they wanted to eat something. At the rate Joffrey was going, it would be a miracle if they survived long enough for Renly to make camp outside King's Landings walls.

_The only good thing that came out of that was that dearest Joff spotted a nice little shiner the next morn_. Tyrion mused to himself. He had no doubts he knew who had given him the black eye and the looks he sent his twin was more than enough confirmation. He would have to laugh and drink over that with Caspian the next time he saw him.

As he neared his litter, he noticed someone that hadn't been there when he last left it, "Bronn," He greeted, some surprise in his voice, "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering your messages." The sellsword replied as he pushed himself off the litter that he had been leaning against, "Apparently, I am now a delivery boy. Not exactly what I signed up for when I agreed to become your personal sword there dwarf."

Tyrion rolled his eyes as he removed the heavy coat he had been advised to wear on his trip down below to the storage room of the wildfire. They had to keep the substance cooled, it had something of an explosive reaction when it interacted with the slightest of heat, "So what are these messages you were supposed to deliver then?"

"Old Iron Hand wants you to come to the Gate of the Gods. Won't say why, but was quick to say that it was urgent," Bronn was quick to say, "Ah, and you have also been summoned to Maegor's Holdfast."

"_Summoned_?" Tyrion repeated, only knowing of one person that would presume to use that very same word, "And what would my dear sister want with little old me?"

Bronn shrugged his shoulders in indifference, "Don't know, don't care. All I know that she summoned you to come and attend her at once in her chambers. That stripling cousin of yours was the one to deliver the message. Four hairs on his lips and he thinks of himself a man."

"And a knighthood." Tyrion added, mirth lurking behind his voice, "Don't forget the knighthood. He's _Ser _Lancel now."

Bronn snorted derisively, "He wouldn't last a second against me, or that salt and peppered prince, or any other half-decent knight or warrior in the town."

Tyrion knew who he was referring to as the salt-and-paper prince. His favourite nephew Caspian. He couldn't help but admit the description was rather fitting. His originally midnight black hair was now dotted with strands of white hair, like salt and the black like pepper.

"Don't let him hear you say that, he just might challenge you to a duel to prove you wrong." The Imp remarked. He then decided on his next course of action, he would go to Bywater as the man wouldn't summon him for no reason unless it was urgent, "I'm afraid you are going to have to tell my darling sister that I will be late for her summons. I have some urgent business that I will need to take care off."

"She won't like that." The wolfish sellsword pointed out.

"She doesn't like anything I do, Bronn old friend." Tyrion returned, "And anyway, the longer I make her wait, the angrier she becomes, and anger makes her stupid. I much prefer the combination of angry and stupid than cunning and composed." He entered his litter with some help from Bronn.

As he made his way towards the Gate of the Gods, Tyrion could see how vastly different the city had changed in the war time situation. The market square inside the Gate of the Gods would have normally been busy with activity and the hustle of merchants trying to peddle their wares and hundreds of other customers, but today, like nearly everyday now, it might as well have been empty.

Ser Jacelyn met him at the gate and raised his iron hand in a brusque salute, "My lord. Your cousin, Cleos Frey came from Riverrun under a peace banner with a letter from Robb Stark."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "Peace terms I take it?" He queried.

Ser Jacelyn gave an uncommitted grunt, "So he says."

"Sweet cousin. Show me to him."

The gold cloaks had confined Cleos into a windowless guard room, most likely to make sure that no-one but Tyrion knew that he was here. When Tyrion entered the room, Cleos rose from his seat, "Tyrion, you are a most welcome sight."

"Not something I hear most of the time sweet coz." He mused in return as he waddled his way towards a seat.

"Has Cersei come with you?"

Tyrion could only shake his head, "She is currently indisposed of this moment, you shall have to contend with dear old me." He looked towards the parchment of paper on the table and plucked it up, "Is this Stark's letter?" He glanced back at Ser Jacelyn, "Thank you Ser Jacelyn, you can leave us."

The commander of the gold cloaks bowed before leaving, "I was told to bring that to Cersei." Cleos said as he heard the door close shut behind him.

"And she shall get it." Tyrion promised, _Just after I make sure I know of the contents and reject all of them of course._ He glanced at the map that the letter had arrived with and looked about it, "You might as well take this time to rest dear cousin. You look like you have seen better days." And he had. Cleos looked like he would just keel over and die at the slightest of touches. He was pale and gaunt, _Might have to put some food into him if he is going to ferry messages from us to Stark._

Ser Cleos nodded as he took a seat back on the bench he had been previously seating down on, "It's bad out there. It could be worse, but bad. We were attacked several times by bandits and outlaws even though we were carrying the peace banner. Wolves, all of them." He commented, giving Tyrion quite the look on the situation on the ground.

The dwarf merely bobbed his head up and down as he continued to read the letter, "I'm surprised that no-ones razing crops or putting the smallfolk to the sword." Initial reports had suggested that was what the river lords and his lord father had been doing at the outset of hostilities. To make sure that the opposing side didn't have any supplies for their hosts.

"That was originally the case." Ser Cleos admitted as he down some water rather greedily, "But Lord Tywin then ordered a halt to the raiding's on villages, farms and the razing of crops. From what I learned, it was the work of Prince Caspian."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "Caspian?"

Ser Cleos nodded his head, "I don't know the contents of the letter but it must at least have been convincing enough for Lord Tywin to stop his razing as he retreated towards the Golden Tooth."

"Hm, seems like I'm going to have to ask my sweet nephew why he requested that off my lord father. What news of our foe?" He asked as he finished off the last of the letter, _The boy doesn't ask for much does he? Half the kingdom, the release of our captives, hostages and his father's sword...oh yes, let's not forget his sisters._

Tyrion frowned when he saw the look on his cousins face, "He sits idle at Riverrun, I venture to guess that he is consolidating his forces. He has all but driven Lord Tywin out of the Riverlands by saving Riverrun and Harrenhal. When I last left, forces from Houses Frey and Mallister were joining with either the northern host or journeying south to join with the Riverlords mustering at Harrenhal."

Well, that wasn't good. Not good at all, "Aren't the River lords worried about their lands?"

His brown-haired cousin could only shrug his shoulders, "I suspect the western lords are, but the eastern lords lands were left untouched during the battles and any western lord who has gone to protect their lands is probably now mustering at Riverrun or Harrenhal since the raids by Lord Tywin have stopped."

_Caspian_. Tyrion thought grimly, _Why did you implore lord father to stop the razing of the River lands? All you are doing is giving a chance for Robb Stark and Edmure Tully the chance to get their forces into order._ He will have a talk with his nephew about this later on. He rolled up the map, "These terms will never do."

Ser Cleos looked at him plaintive look, "Will you at least consent the trade for the Stark girls for Tion and Willem?"

If Tyrion remembered correctly, Tion was Ser Cleos' younger brother. It was a pity but he couldn't release such valuable hostages_, Correction, hostage_. Especially considering the fact that Tion and Willem weren't as valuable as Sansa combined as uneasy as that truth was, _And Joffrey won't be willing to let go of his plaything ever so easily. But still...I have to offer something to placate Stark so that he doesn't outright attack us. Renly is enough of a danger as it is._

"In all honesty," Tyrion began as he rolled up the parchment of paper, "I can't accept all these terms, but I will acquiesce to one of the terms."

A hopeful look came onto Ser Cleos' expression and Tyrion immediately knew that he had got the wrong idea, "You will trade the Stark girls?" He asked, _For my brother and cousin?_ Were the unsaid words in his sentence Tyrion knew.

The Acting Hand of the King could only shake his head in the negative, "No...I can only do that if Stark stops his treason and bends the knee." _Unlikely, there's already too much bad blood as it is. _"But I will return his father's sword to him. That should placate him for a while until we come back to him with _our _own terms."

The suggestion didn't seem to sit well with Ser Cleos but he seemed to accept it nonetheless, "Very well, if you say so my lord."

Tyrion took the map and letter into his hands as he jumped off his seat, "Until we come back with our own terms, you can use this time to eat and rest cousin. Gods, because you look like you have travelled to the seven hells and back."

He exited the room and soon found Ser Jacelyn on the ramparts watching several hundred new recruits being drilled in combat and formation by the knights and men-at-arms that were in the city or that Caspian had brought along with him. With the number of refugees constantly pouring into the city, the City Watch, their was no lack of new recruits willing to join for bread and board. But Tyrion new better, he would serve judgement on them when they held back Renly's forces at the gates.

"You did well to send for me." Tyrion said, "Ser Cleos is now in your care. Make sure he receives food and board."

"And his escort?" The one-handed man asked.

"Make sure they are fed and looked after as well." He turned to walk away before stopping, "Oh yes, make sure they get new, clean garbs. And they are not to set foot in the city." It would never do for Robb Stark to learn about the conditions of the city whilst in Riverrun. That might as very well spur him on to march towards them and he would prefer to fight one army rather than two.

_It wouldn't be all that bad if they fought each other_. Tyrion mused as he made his way back to his litter, _Although it would unlikely. They both have the same objectives, well nearly the same objectives._

If only Ser Stafford would hurry and finish training the new host he had mustered outside of Casterly Rock. If he did so, his lord father's host would be bolstered by additional men that could very well finally take the fight to Robb Stark and the rest of his rebels and maybe then, things would finally go their way in this damnable war.

If Caspian had just been the first to come out of his mother's womb, or better yet, had Cersei actually acquiesced to her lord husband's will of actually making Caspian king, this entire war wouldn't even have started.

As he made his way back to the Red Keep, a hubbub of activity in one of the lesser markets attracted his attention. He peered out of his litter to have a look, "_Corruption_!" A man wailed loudly. He pointed at the fuzzy red comet that people had dubbed _King Joffrey's Comet_ that was located, at his vantage point in the distant beyond Aegon's Hill and thus right above the castle that sat atop it. Tyrion couldn't help but admit that the stage the man had set was rather clever, "We have become, bloated, swollen, foul. Brother couples with sister in the bed of kings, and the fruit of their incest capers in the palace on the words of a twisted demon monkey!" The crowd bayed and cheered at the words. The preacher once again pointed at the comment, "The gods have shown their displeasure at such a thing, at this rotten king that stands in the way of the true king."

Ah, now they were referring to Caspian. How wonderful. If Joffrey heard of this, he would more than likely have one of his little fits. He ordered his litter to carry on, _Twisted little monkey demon indeed._ He mused to himself. He was very twisted but the monkey and demon? Now that was simply uncalled for.

He was pleased to reach the Red Keep without any additional incident and made his way towards his solar in the Tower of the Hand. When he opened to the door, he saw a sight that he wasn't particularly looking forward too.

Cersei swirled around from the window, her skirts swirling at her hips, "How _dare_ you ignore my summons!"

"Ignore?" Tyrion replied with mock offence, "Sister, you wound me. I would never ignore the summons of my sweet sister. I was about to come to you after taking care of some business."

Cersei was doubtful and it showed on her graceful features, "Were you?"

Tyrion shut the door behind him, "The doubt, it hurts."

"It would be better if it killed you."

Tyrion waddled towards the side cupboard for a goblet of wine. Talking to Cersei always did work up a thirst, "Such a caring sister as always sister. How could I have lived without all your tender loving and care over the years?"

"You disgusting little worm! Did you really think I would allow you to sell off Myrcella like a bag of oats?"

Tyrion perked up at that and could hardly contain himself. It seemed as if one of his fruits was starting to ripen but it still needed some tender caring at the moment, "Last time I checked Myrcella is a princess. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later." He gave her a curious look, "Or did you plan to marry her off to Tommen or better yet Caspian? I don't think he would take too kindly to such a notion. Incest seems to sicken him."

Her hand lashed out and knocked the goblet of wine in his hands to the ground, spilling the contents all over the floor, "Brother or no, I would have your tongue cut out for that. _I _am Joffrey's regent, not you and I will not have my only daughter sold off to some rabid Dornishman, the way I was shipped off to Robert Baratheon."

The door to the solar opened, "Who's shipping off who to who?" Caspian asked as he entered the solar.

Tyrion smiled as he turned around, "Ah dear nephew, lovely of you to join us. I see your habit of not knocking has continued to follow you around into your teenage years."

His nephew gave him a shrug of nonchalance, "You never seem to be busy when I come in."

Cersei looked at her son, "Caspian, tell your nuncle here what a foolhardy decision it is to send your sister to Dorne to be betrothed to some Dornishman."

Caspian raised an eyebrow and looked at Tyrion, "You betrothed Myrcella to a Dornishman?"

"Prince Trystane to be precise." Tyrion said as bent down and picked up his goblet of wine. He waddled to the side once more and began to pour himself another cup of wine, "I think she would be a great deal safer there than here. I would like it if you would tell that to your mother."

Tyrion didn't see his nephew shake his head, "That's not a good idea."

Cersei had a triumphant look on her face as Tyrion turned his head to look at Caspian. He had always thought him a great deal smarter than he was and he was confident Caspian would see what he was trying to accomplish, "How so exactly?"

The prince dug into the pocket of his tunic and revealed a rolled up piece of paper, "This is a missive from Storm's End, I now know why Nuncle Renly seemed content on leaving his flank open."

A dread started forming in the midst of Tyrion's being, "Do I want to know?"

Caspian shrugged, "Probably not, but you should know anyway. Lord Caron reports that a Dornish host has passed through the Prince's Pass and is currently laying siege to Nightsong and other Marcher castles. Luckily, the Dornish Marches are always prepared for such an eventuality so they will be able to hold out until reinforcements arrive. My castellan has already called the hosts to muster at Blackhaven. I'll be leaving soon enough to join them."

Tyrion made his way towards his nephew and looked up at him, "Do you have to go personally? I'm sure you have many competent commanders that could take your place."

"He's right." The queen hurriedly joined in as she scrambled to her sons' side and took a hand of his into hers, "Send someone else. You are just a boy, you can't be fighting in wars."

Caspian had an even smile as he shook his head, "Can't be having that. I managed to pry away the Stormlords from my nuncle but I only have a loose grip on them. The only way to cement that grip is by actively leading them from the front." He gave an earnest smile to his nuncle and mother, although Tyrion was rather sure it was mostly directed at himself, "Don't worry your pretty little heads mother, nuncle, I'll try not do die."

Cersei chewed on her lip, "You better."

Caspian removed his hand away from his mothers own somewhat quickly. It seemed as if he was still unused to the whole closeness his mother was starting to show on him, "Right, I'll be going now. I'll leave some of the knights and men-at-arms behind to continue training your gold cloak recruits." He gave his nuncle a look, "Look after Sansa would you? If something happens to her, expect the same to happen to Nuncle Jaime. The North remembers as the saying goes." He finished as he turned on his heel and exited the solar.

Tyrion watched the door close before glancing at his sister who had a longing look on her face, "It seems as if Myrcella is going nowhere now. Although I think it would be at least prudent to sent her and Tommen to Storm's End. They will be safer there than here."

The queen seemed to be in her own little world, "Is he going to be alright?"

Tyrion glanced at her before shrugging, "He has a good head on his shoulder, unlike the other one," He felt a little satisfaction when he saw the flash of annoyance that came onto Cersei's face at the mention of Joffrey, "If he happens to find himself over his head, I'm sure he would more likely to retreat than just continue fighting for the sake of fighting. Honour, glory and all that have little meaning to him unless it's cold, hard logic."

XxX

Caspian

The Stormlands had always boasted a strong martial culture. No city could be found within the region except around the large fortresses the likes of Bronzegate. Therefore it came to no surprise to Caspian that when he had arrived at Blackhaven, the former Targaryen summer palace was filled to the brim of a thirty-thousand strong Stormlands host.

Although he would admit that he had lied a little. He had been slightly surprised. He had ridden hard from King's Landing to Blackhaven that it took a little over two weeks. Although he had been slightly surprised that Blackhaven had been in the midst of a siege when the first of his bannermen started arriving, prompting the Dornish siegers to break their siege and retreat back towards the Prince's Pass.

From their it took only a matter of days before the full brunt of the Stormlands had gathered along with the added forces of the Marcher Lords themselves. With his arrival, they had finally set off towards Nightsong to either liberate the castle or relieve it from the siege it was being placed under.

Caspian was confident that the castle was still very much in the hands of the defenders as Nightsong was the first line of defence from an invasion from the Dornish. But to be better safe than sorry, Caspian had given command of his eight thousand horses, along with the horse of House Dondarrion and it's bannermen under the command of Ralph Buckler and ordered them to serve as the vanguard of the main host.

That was several days ago and Lord Ralph had served him well. He had been able to break the the siege of Nightsong and forced them into a retreat into the Prince's Pass. Lord Ralph had sent a small force to harry the retreating Dornishmen until they stopped their attacks when they noticed that they were joining up with a larger Dornish host to which they immediately turned tell and retreated to report their findings.

Which brought Caspian to the current situation he was in. His host was located in a plain between the Prince's Pass and Nightsong and due to this positioning the Dornish had no choice but to engage them if they wanted to invade the Marches and thus the Stormlands.

Caspian stood inside his command tent looking over a map of the local area. He looked up at the knight that had been in command of the small force of horse that had been harrying the Dornish host, Ser Guyard Morrigen if he remembered correctly, "So how big is this host exactly?"

The knight bowed his head before speaking, "My scouts couldn't tell my prince. If they had gotten any closer, they would have been found out."

"Well, nothing can be done about that." Caspian said with a sigh, "It would be best to assume that the host is around the same strength and size as a normal Stormland host before the addition of the Marcher Lords."

Lord Buckler stepped up as he spoke, "Daeron the Young Dragon wrote that the Dornish are able to call a host of up to fifty thousand, my prince. That's five thousand more men than us."

Caspian expected this. He was five-and-ten of years and not yet even recognised as a man. In fact, to many of the lords in attendant of this meeting, he was nothing more than a boy that they had to include because of his position and ranking.

_I have to show that I belong here. That they can trust me. That I'm not some little boy._ "Daeron was a liar. He exaggerated himself when it came to Dorne. Dorne is the least populated of all the Seven Kingdoms and let's not forget that the Dornish never fought Daeron on the field head-to-head but only encountered guerrilla actions. I would love to know how he was able to get a good count of their numbers when the dornish did everything not to meet him in a direct fight." They were still unconvinced. He could see it on their faces, so he decided that it was best to carry on and go about battle formations and strategies, "I propose triple line formation, men-at-arms in the centre and the levies located at the right and left flanks, archers behind them with three thousand horse in the centre acting as reserves."

That brought a lot of murmurs from the gathered lords as they looked down at the map and the figures that represented their own forces at how they were set about. It was Ser Donnel Swann, the older brother to one of the knights in his retinue Ser Balon Swann who voiced the question the other lords had, "Three thousand horse my lord? We have eleven thousand horse."

Caspian smiled as he nodded his head, "That we do, but I want to break the Dornish host and finish it off quickly in case Lord Renly sends another host, this time from his own forces to invade the Stormlands." He picked up several horse figures and placed them at the far side of the battle lines, two horses each, "The remaining eight thousand horse will swing out to the side and remain hidden and when the Dornish show themselves from the Pass, the first thing they will see will be our own lines and engage us. Whilst they are doing that," He placed his hands on the figures and drew them into the flanks of where the Dornish host would be located, "Our remaining horse will charge into their unprotected flanks." The eyes of the lords and commanders in attendant widened ever so slightly, "It wouldn't matter if they number us by five or ten thousand more, the initial charge would cause chaos among their lines and it just might be enough to force them into a retreat."

Murmurs of agreement went through the tent before the plan was adjusted and other back-up plans were drawn up and put into consideration and the commanders of the horses that would be attacking from the flanks were chosen. With the meeting done, Caspian ordered the horse commanders to get their men ready because he had the feeling the dornish host would soon be upon them and he didn't want to give anything away by having his horse ride off later than planned.

After the strategic session had ended, Caspian found himself flopping into a nearby seat. He found a goblet of wine placed in front of him and he took it, "Thanks." He said as he brought it to his lips.

Asher gave him a wry look of amusement, "Nervous?" He asked as he drank his own goblet, "This wouldn't be the first battle you have fought in."

Caspian shook his head, "It might not be the first battle, but it's the first where I have been _in _command." He cast a look in the sworn swords direction, "When we were running around with the Stormcrows, I was just another nameless kid running around trying to prove something, or your 'brat brother' as you introduced me to the others."

Asher's thick, black hair fell in front of an eye and he blew it away to the side with practiced ease before speaking once more, "Would you have liked it if I introduced you as the Second Prince of Westeros?" He didn't receive an answer from Caspian and just smiled, "No? I didn't think so." The trouble that would have caused would have been rather problematic.

"I'm rather surprised you didn't sell me out to get a piece of the ransom."

"They might have been my old friends, but they were still sellswords." Asher said with a slight yawn, "They would have most likely gave me another mouth to eat and breath through before kidnapping you and holding you for ransom."

"How fun." Caspian said dryly as he brought the goblet to his lips.

Asher seemed to quieten himself in silent contemplation. He eveb had the look of someone who was stroking his beard in thought, "So..."

"So..."

"Does this mean you and Arianne are over and done with?" He asked, amused at the prospect.

The prince was quick to give him a look, "There was nothing between us. I have said this already." He took a drink from his goblet, "But yeah, I am rather sure that we won't be meeting each other again now...especially if I end up killing her nuncle." One of the outriders had spotted a banner that belonged to House Martell and of his knowledge, their was only one Martell that could lead any sort of host to war.

Asher smirked at him, "Confident are we? Oberyn Martell is a fighter of legendary prowess. Very few people can actually take him in a fight."

"He's old." Caspian replied dismissively.

"That can also be taken as that he has experience." The dark-haired sworn sword said, "Much more than you."

"We'll see soon enough. Maybe if I'm lucky, an arrow will kill him for me." Caspian said as he relaxed some more into his seat. The thought of actually fighting Oberyn Martell was actually not on his list of to do things in his life. He would have preferred fighting the brother sickly with the gout rather the hot-headed, renowned brother.

"Nothing is never that easy." Asher said as he rose from his seat. He looked over at Caspian, "Want me to find you a girl? You never know."

Caspian's eyes drifted shut as he shook his head, "No thanks. Who knows what pox she's carrying?" He never paid for sex. Ever. If he wanted to follow nature's calling, he worked for it.

"Suit yourself." Asher said as he left the tent, "See you on the morrow."

XxX

Outriders had reported that Oberyn's host had just exited the Pass and where marching in their direction. Once again, Caspian couldn't help but thank the gods that the Stormlands were a martial culture, although the levies were farmers, crofters, builders among various other professions.

Many of them had grown up within castle walls and thus during some time in their lives, they had picked up a sword. But still he couldn't help but frown at the notion of levies, _I wonder why no-one ever thought of forming a standing army like the Free Cities? It would make life so much easier._ And things like this wouldn't be happening. The army would only follow the commands of men loyal to the crown instead of individual lords, _Well, that's something to think over if I survive this battle._

Edric was walking around him to make sure his armour was on correctly. He chose to wore light armour that better suited him than heavy armour that consisted off a dark-coloured iron cuirass and gorget, lightly armoured metal greaves, vambraces and light chainmail that covered his torso and arms.

"There," Edric said as he stopped in front of Caspian, Edric himself dressed in armour of boiled leather and scale armour, "Done." He said, a certain tinge to his voice.

Caspian looked at his bastard brother and frowned, "You should have stayed back at Storm's End. You are too young to be here."

Edric gave him a look before pointing at him, "You are only older than me by a year and a few moons." He crossed his arms, "You think I'm scared don't you?"

"Are you?"

Edric was quick to reply, "Terrified." Caspian nearly burst out laughing at the frank admission from his little bastard brother. Edric shook his hair, his long black hair sailing back and forth, "A part of me is telling me I should have stayed back in Storm's End, whilst another is telling me I should be out there fighting with my brother. I mean, who do you honestly trust to keep your back, Asher? He's a sell sword. If it starts going bad, he may very well turn on you."

A wry smile of amusement came onto Caspian's face, "That's not very nice."

"It wasn't supposed to be." Edric replied in deadpan.

"You also forget that I have Ser Arys with me." The young prince said as he looked around the tent for his Valyrian blade and his castle-forged shield, "Out of all the current kingsguard, I would prefer to have Ser Arys with me," He stopped to snigger for a moment, "Actually, most of the knights that I know off or are sworn to me are better than the current kingsguard. That's a...chilling thought to be honest."

After that moment of introspection, Caspian finally noted where his weapon and shield lay and made his way towards his sword and strapped it at the hilt before picking up his shield. A kite shield coloured black with the crowned stag of House Baratheon. The shield might as well be marking him out for a target to anyone feeling lucky enough, but it served the purpose of showing to the other soldiers that their prince was fighting amongst them.

"Fear isn't all that bad." Caspian started saying as he lifted the shield up and down to make sure that he had freedom of movement, as much as he could, "Fear shows that you are still alive. Still breathing, but the trick is not to let it rule you."

Edric raised an eyebrow as he armed himself, "And I do that how?"

Caspian smiled at his bastard brother, his helmet in one hand as he lifted it up, "By looking it straight in the face and slapping it silly."

The bastard cast a look in his brother's direction, "I...what?"

"Slap it silly Edric," Caspian repeated as he walked outside the tent, "Slap it silly."

Edric looked at the exit of the tent before shaking his head and running after his brother, "You should give that speech to the men, that would make all of them tremble and cower in fear."

It wasn't long before Caspian and Edric reached the company of armoured knights that he was to ride with. By then, Ser Arys, his other sworn sword and Asher had joined them. It didn't take long before Caspian was mounted onto the back of Shadowfax. He looked towards the direction of the Red Mountains and he could see the wide opening that was the Prince's Pass.

He reared his horse around, "Alright then, let's do this."

XxX

The Dornish had come out marching in formation. They had clearly expected to meet an opposing army the moment they exited the Prince's Pass. Although too far away to see, Caspian could tell many of them probably flew many banners of the Dornish lords. It was a pity by the end of the day that many of those banners would be dyed in their blood.

As he waited for the Dornish to make their way towards him, he couldn't help but think back to the time that he had found himself being hosted by the Martells. It was after his year in Essos. The ship from Pentos to King's Landing had been caught in a storm and thus send a long way off course and ended up in Dorne.

Caspian had been uneasy during the initial hours of his time in Planky Town. Although his last name was Baratheon, he was still of Lannister blood and the Lannisters were not particularly liked in this part of the realm. It had been a good thing that he had played the part of nothing more than the son of a merchant, Asher being the merchant.

Unfortunately, Asher had somehow managed to run into someone who recognised him, and by that, recognised his charge in Caspian himself. At that moment, the prince remembered saying his prayers and waiting for someone to kill him, he certainly had not expected to be greeted warmly by Doran Martell...or the Martells in general, even if their feud only went back a single generation, he still expected something to happen regardless.

Well, something did happen in regards to him and Arianne becoming lovers, but that was nothing more than a side note to the entire tale as far as he was concerned.

He had met nearly all of the Martells, from the youngest of the family in Trystane to the Prince of Dorne himself. He got along rather well with Oberyn, it was a pity now that they were going to be trying to kill each other in heated combat.

The loosing off arrows attracted his attention back to reality and he looked forward to the second line of archers releasing arrows into the sky, rising up before reaching the apex of their flight and dropping down to the ground below where the Dornish were advancing at a steady pace.

Many men fell, others were quick to bring up their shields above their heads, but others continued to fall. The round shield that the Dornish preferred leaving some openings, such as a stray limb or body part.

From the back of the Dornish lines, a horn blew out and the men charged, their voices all joining into one as they released battle screams to unnerve the defenders. It didn't seem to work, no-one buckled or took a step back, instead, they all formed a shield wall, ready to meet them, of course, to meet the ones that would have somehow been able to bypass the stakes stabbed into the ground.

As the infantry charged, more arrows were released into the sky to cut them down in number, along with shouts of "_Fire at will!"_ Being heard throughout the battle lines by the commanders of the archers.

It didn't take long for the Dornish to meet the shield wall and the two opposing forces crashed into each other like the a wave onto a beach. The wall buckled and in some places broke, before individual men started cutting into each other. Caspian smiled behind his helmet as he was relieved to notice that the centre had been able to hold its shield wall, professional soldiers did do a massive difference.

The right flank was still holding despite some holes within its wall, but the left flank was the problem as the Dornish were cutting through a huge wedge within the wall. He looked around and noticed that it was finally the turn of the Dornish horse to move into action, and the horse were heading straight for the weakened left flank.

Not on his watch. He raised his left hand and dropped it in the direction of the left flank, "_Move!_" He yelled and of the three thousand horse, fifteen hundred split off and galloped with him down towards the left flank, running behind the archers as they continued loosing arrows into the back of the Dornish host as they continued charging.

He could tell that Ser Arys, Asher and Edric were riding behind him. They eventually reached the end of the lines and turned, but not before seeing a dust cloud coming in from the distance of the Dornish flanks. He smiled, _Good, the rest of the horse is coming in._

He drew his sword and led the charge towards the advancing heavy horse of the Dornish. He noticed they carried two banners. One was that of a black portcullis grill on a yellow background and the other a red sun being pierced by a gold spear on an orange background, _House Yronwood and House Martell. _Caspian bit his lip. He didn't think he would be facing off against Dorne's two most powerful Houses from the very start, but he couldn't back down now. It was too late, _Prince Oberyn did seem like the type to lead from the front anyway._

The horses of the two houses seemed to notice their approach and veered to meet them, their knights lowered their lances as they formed into one large wedge formation. Caspian and his own horse were already in a wedge, with him at the tip.

He now wished he had brought a lance, it would at the very least reduced his chances of dying, _They out number us._ He thought as he held out his shield in front of him and readied his sword, _But they don't seem to be aware of the advancing horse from their left flank. Good._

It seemed as if time had slowed down for Caspian as the two forces neared. He could hear his heart pumping from within his chest, his blood rushing throughout his body and as if by magic, time resumed and the two formations of horses clashed.

The sounds of men and horses let out death rattles hit his ears. A lance had bounced off his shield and he had retaliated by cutting down the knight responsible when he got close enough.

Caspian had stopped thinking the moment he had cut down his first opponent. The next moments all seemed like flashes of memories as he continued to cut his way at anyone not wearing friendly colours. His black blade was slickened in blood and brains and his strokes were smooth as he cut men in twain, their armour seemingly useless against his blade.

He was finally able to come back down from his high and noticed that they had stopped the Dornish charge but they were now slowly being overwhelmed by the numerous numbers of the Dornish horse. Well, at that moment at least, until the horse had sent off into flank, did what they had been ordered to, attack the flank of their enemy's formation and that is what they did.

He could feel a change...and a feeling of danger. Caspian was quick to raise his kite shield to block the strike of a spear. He retaliated by trying to hack the shaft of the spear into twain but its user was quick to withdraw it.

His horse reared to face his new opponent, _Well I'll be damned. _Caspian thought as he looked at the man dressed in orange and red, _Oberyn Martell...The Red Viper himself...fuck._

It seemed as if Oberyn had recognised him too, "Well, I didn't expect to see you on the battlefield Caspian." The Viper was quick to attack as he stabbed at him thrice with his spear.

The prince hid behind his shield and heard the sound of metal meeting metal as the blade of the spear struck his shield, "How the hell did you recognise me?" The prince questioned before retaliating himself as he spurred Shadowfax onwards to reduce the distance between them and lashing out with several strikes of the sword, _Don't get cut or stabbed. He isn't called the Viper for nothing._

Oberyn smacked away his strikes of the sword before one of them managed to catch the shaft of the sword flush, snapping it into two. The Red Viper of Dorne immediately threw the blunt end at Caspian to serve as a distraction which bounced off the prince's helmet before trying to stab him with the blade, "The Crowned Stag." Oberyn said, "And it's unfortunate, but goodbye. I shall tell Arianne you fought well."

_Oh no you don't!_ Caspian quickly drew back in his shield hand and batted the spear aside, the blade of the spear, most likely poisoned by the way it glistened in the sun, scratching his cuirass. His action seemed to surprise Oberyn before he used that chance to swing his sword at Oberyn's head, "_I'll_ tell her you fought well."

Caspian watched as the Viper was quick to move his head back, only being saved from missing his nose by the nose guard on his helmet. Caspian kissed his teeth before bringing his shield himself and raising it up before smashing it into the back of the head of Oberyn's steed.

He had a self-satisfied look on his face as the horse jerked violently and then reared up in pain or in a death rattle, unsettling the Viper as he tried to calm the horse with a single hand grabbing onto the reins, and the other hand flailing wildly trying to keep himself balanced. Caspian saw the flailing hand and a glare of the sun glistened off his black blade.

He knew what he had to do.

Caspian took the chance.

He swung his sword, and the hand went flying.

The Red Viper seemed confused at first, before the reality hit him, or was it the pain? Caspian didn't care. The shrill, deafening sound that escaped from his mouth might as well have been a beautiful ballad to him.

* * *

**AN: Alright, going to mix it up next chapter from canon some more. I think you'll like it, I don't know whether it has been done before or not. I haven't read that many Trueborn Son fics to see if it has, but probably it has been done. Fanfic is a large place.**

**Shall also introduce some POVs from other characters too instead of the usual Tyrion and Caspian.**

**Well, hope you enjoyed the chapter and the ending...that's probably going to make a lot of you want to smash your hand through the screen of your computer or laptop but oh well...cliffhangers are awesome every now and then.**

**Did you like the battle? First time writing such a thing and I think I'll need to work on my battle writing skills, so future battles will probably be better or the same quality as this one...I hope for better though.**

**See ya and leave a review.**

**TheForeverKing **


	9. Chapter 9

**Shout outs!**

**TetrisLame: I just youtube'd that battle and I have to say, I do like it.**

**TheInsaneDuckkie: I think I was writing the story, then stopped for a bit and read some fanfic, A Game of Vengeance probably being the last fanfic I read and somehow ended up writing Caspian as Jasper :L I can't seem to find that odd paragraph though so I can edit it. Fuck.**

**SimFlyer: Oberyn is awesome, but rather hotheaded and thus stupid. If he had controlled himself, he would have so slaughtered the Mountain.**

**Silvercrow: But Littlefinger has need for her. You forget that Littlefinger is one of the snakiest bastards in the entire series and Sansa reminds her of Cat, his lost love. I have a lot planned for the man from the Little Fingers. And Varys too when I get to that point of the story.**

**Rhaegar wasn't mad. He was just plain stupid. Jeez, the whole Lyanna situation, he never particularly thought what effects his action might have on the kingdom.**

**Gravio: His mother may have loathed his father, but they would have still fucked, Robert taking his 'Marriage rights' so to speak, you forget women had less rights during this period of time. And anyway, your mom fucking her brother, once again, who would believe that? No-one in Westeros believed it at first until Joffrey's sociopathy started reminding people of a certain inbred line of kings.**

**Mikle Silver: Single combat mate. When knights clashed in the middle of a battle, it was common courtesy to let them fight it out without interference. Although I might concede on the whole chatter thing, but I think it still would have been possible.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice &amp; Fire_

* * *

The Kraken's Daughter

The air whistled and swayed as the axe flew through the air, its blade spinning in a deadly flash of bare steel before it deposited itself it broke through armour and deposited itself into the chest of a watchman. By then Asha Greyjoy had already moved on and had thrown another axe into the face of an onrushing crimson wearing watchman.

Behind her, Qarl the Maid hacked down a watchman that had been coming up from behind her, "Better watch yourself their girly." She had him say before he buried his axe once more into an unfortunate watchman.

"I know how to watch myself." She said as she drew her dirk from its sheath, amidst the battle and carnage raging around her, "You should be the one watching themselves Qarl the _Maid_." She teased as she stabbed, thrusted and sliced through several men that had come against her.

She might have been a woman, but this was were she truly felt were she belonged. In the midst of battle, leading her men to glory for their home and for the Drowned God. She took a small moment of reprieve to get a better look around.

Lannisport was burning and the sounds of men fighting against each other could be heard from the four corners of the city. From where she was, she could see the women and children running away from the shores and ports whilst the City Watch made their way towards the seaside in a bid to stop the Ironborn incursion.

She cast a look in the direction of Casterly Rock in the north, sitting atop its mighty hill overlooking the city. She grinned, the Rock may very well not fall on this particular day, but Lannisport will be in the hands of the Ironborn by days end.

She looked towards the port and could see the burning wreckages of ships. From the smallest fishing boat to the large galleys of the Lannister fleet and amidst them coming to the shore were hundreds of Ironborn longships, holding hundreds of ironborn waiting to spill into the city and capture it.

The greenlanders were in the midst of conflict among themselves and from the reports they had received. In a different time, her lord father wouldn't have considered attacking Casterly Rock, thinking off it too powerful and strong, but word had reached that the Lannisters had been made to suffer defeats in the Riverlands and been forced to retreat to the Golden Tooth.

The other side of the Westerlands, and thus, Tywin Lannister found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. He could race back with his host to Lannisport, leaving his rear to be attacked by an opportunistic Riverlands and Northern host or stay at the Golden Tooth whilst another host is called upon to defend Lannisport and the Rock.

It didn't matter either way, the Rock was too much of a fortress to be taken and the ironborn only wished to occupy Lannisport, for now that was.

A new Lannister host had been mustered only to be defeated by a northern army that had somehow been able to bypass the Golden Tooth just days before the ironborn had arrived to reave and take the city for themselves. If they had arrived during the clash of those two armies, it would certainly have been rather interesting.

But the northmen had left to continue scouring the Westerlands. It was a good thing too, her brother was still a ward of House Stark and if the ironborn clashed with the northmen, she wasn't particularly endeared to the thought of what would happen to her brother who she had not seen in nigh ten years.

_It's all for the best anyway._ If it hadn't been for the North and their King, the ironborn would have had a far more difficult time in trying to capture Lannisport, _Father may still have his grievances against the North for what happened during the Rebellion, but he would know better than to attack them whilst they hold Theon within their ranks._ If by chance that they were somehow able to get Theon back, then no-one could say that they wouldn't feel entitled to attack the North and make them pay the iron price for nine years ago.

Her uncle Victarion was leading another invasion force to take the Shield Islands and then soon afterwards, to sail against the Arbor and take out the only threat to ironborn indepence, the Redwynne Fleet and if possible, take the Arbor itself. The ironborn did have a claim to the island, going back to the days of the old Hoare high kingship. Unlike the greenlanders, they didn't need to have the complicit acceptance of the Iron Throne for their freedom, they just needed to destroy the greenlander fleets.

"_Asha!_" yelled Qarl the Maid as he ran towards her, his armour coated with blood and his axes even bloodier than he was. She could see pieces of bone and brain sliding off the blades of the axes, "The docks are ours."

The scion of House Greyjoy looked towards the docks and could see that they were filled with nothing more than ironborn rushing forward to join the fighting, or those carrying back captives as they struggled, wailed or cried, _Future thralls and saltwives, all of them._ But that was the iron price and she felt neither pity nor compassion.

Compared to the ironborn, the greenlanders had it far too easy for her liking. Their lands were rich and fertile, the iron islands? All rock and hardy, _But they do breed a hardy people_. It was no wonder the ironborn turned to reaving and raiding as their way of life.

"Seems like my lord father is making his way here." Asha said when she noticed a large warship that seemed to be more at home among the Iron Fleet rather than the longships that were continuously flooding any sight of land.

"Getting a lay of the land I take it." Qarl the Maid said with a shrug of the shoulders. He quickly turned and sunk his axe into a smallfolk that had picked up a sword and had tried to sneak up on him, "_Phew!_ That was rather close." He breathed as he wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing blood across it when he had been trying to wipe away sweat.

Asha cast a quick look to the man as he lay on the ground dead, blood pooling around his body, joining with the gallons of blood that had already been spilled, "Brave of him." She commented.

Qarl didn't think so, "More like stupid. He would have lived a long life as a thrall if he had just stayed hiding or whatever he was doing before he thought about trying to sneak up on us." His eyes panned over to Casterly Rock, "Pretty castle."

"Pretty." Asha said in agreement as she bobbed her head, "But not ours. We can't take it, not yet at least. They'll be able to hold-out and prepare." She waved a hand at all the fires in the city, "They would have to be blind, deaf and stupid not to notice that something is wrong here."

"Yeah," Qarl drawled as he stroked his cheeks. Those cheeks were smooth, smooth as a baby's bottom as she vividly recalled, "At least they will put up a fight when we come to take it."

Asha began to make her way towards the shore to greet her father, "One step at a time Qarl. Let's not rush into anything blindly." She slid her dirk back into its sheathe as Qarl joined her walking back down to the shore, bypassing the hundreds of ironborn flooding into the city.

Asha wondered whether this time, the ironborn would get the independence her lord father craved or just like nine years ago, he would be forced to bend the knee once more to the Iron Throne. At the thought, her face hardened, _They won't make him bend the knee. They will surely kill him. This is the second time he has rebelled, what's to stop him from making it a third?_

XxX

Her father was a thin man. Asha could readily say so. He was not as powerful or as large as her uncle Victarion. He looked rather frail if she was honest. He was gaunt with a hard face and even harder, black eyes. His hair had since lost its colour and greyed, freckled with white here and there as it fell cascading to the small of his back. He was dressed in chain and scale armour, and over the top of such a thing was a surcoat that bore the kraken of House Greyjoy.

As she watched him make his way off the boat, she couldn't help but wonder how such a man was able to convince the lords of the Iron Islands to raise their banners in rebellion to bring back the old way. To fight against the power of the Iron Throne, but he had done so nonetheless.

Because of that, she knew her father, albeit thin, was also a powerful man. She bowed her head slightly in greeting, and so to did the other lord captains that had come to greet him, "King Greyjoy." The greeted all at the same time. It wasn't 'lord' anymore.

Atop his head sat the Driftwood Crown. Balon Greyjoy would now be referred to as King Greyjoy. Once again, his banners had been raised in rebellion against the Iron Throne. Markedly different from the attitude her grandsire and her father's father had when it came to the greenlanders.

Whilst Quellon Greyjoy sought to deepen relationships with the Iron Throne, Balon thought other wise. His faith and belief in the Old Way was unquenchable.

One way or another, he was sure he would bring the Iron Islands their independence and the Old Way with it.

He walked among the captains, talking to them, hearing reports as he surveyed the city from the shore. Fighting could still be heard, but that was deeper into the city. The shore, harbour and docks had long since been captured.

When Asha looked at her father's eyes, she could see it within them. This was just the beginning. She could just tell.

She hoped that independence for the Islands was all that her father sought, anything else and they would have been put on breeches to big for them.

_Only time will tell._ She mused.

XxX

Sansa

The Hound had been sent to retrieve her by the command of Joffrey. Sansa as always had been quick to answer to the summons but the way the Hound had spoken and the way he had looked at her filled her with dread.

It had shown when she tried to put on her dress. Her fingers may as well have belonged to a different person as they continued to fumble around the buttons and knots of her gown. She had wondered if Joffrey had found out about her meetings with Ser Dontos, she hoped not.

Caspian was kind and he truly did try his best to look-out for her, but he was hardly ever in King's Landing. Instead, the last she had heard, he had rode away to the Stormlands for some business or another, the rumour was that the Dornish had invaded the Stormlands.

She had worried for him, she had spared a part of her mind in worry of her only true friend within the castle walls and had prayed that he came back. Joffrey was ever subdued in her tormenting of her whenever he was around, but his cruelty increased whenever he wasn't.

After dressing in her nicest gown, The Hound had led her towards Joffrey. She walked on his left, the side that didn't show his burned face, "Tell me what I have done." She had asked the sworn sword.

"Not you." The younger brother of the Mountain that Rides had replied, "Your kingly brother."

Her heart had increased in pace, "My brother is a traitor." She had not even thought about it and the words had come out on instinct. Caspian had been right, she had been trained well, "I had no part in whatever treasons he committed." She prayed fervently that her brother had not harmed the Kingslayer. If he had, her life may as well have been forfeit.

The terrible pale eyes of Ser Ilyn came to her mind, staring at her as he held her father's great sword.

The Hound was of similar mind to Caspian, "They trained you well they did to sing the same old pretty song they did, little bird."

He had led her towards the lower bailey, somewhere near the archery butts. It seemed as if Joffrey was holding an outdoor court session. Men moved aside to let them through and she noticed the looks she received, or rather, the looks she _didn't_ receive. Some people merely ignored her existence whilst others looked at her with superiority in their eyes.

She had to walk around a little yellow cat that had a quarrel through its ribs. She wondered why it had such a thing as it mewed pitifully before she noticed why.

Joffrey stood at the centre of a throng, winding up a golden ornate looking bow. Ser Meryn and Ser Boros stood beside him. The sight of both knights was enough to tie her knots.

Ser Dontos rode a wooden horse stick towards her. Joffrey had banned him from ever riding a proper horse after he had turned up at his name-day celebrations drunk. As he passed he whispered to her, "Stay strong."

She reached the beginning of the throng and fell to her knees, "Your Grace."

Joffrey glanced at her, "Kneeling won't save you now." He motioned for her with his head to stand up, "You are here to answer for your brother's latest treasons."

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part." She said, her voice pleading, "You know this, I beg you, please-."

"_Get her up!_" Joffrey ordered snappishly.

The Hound was the one to pull her to her feet, not ungently, "Ser Lancel," Joffrey said as he addressed his cousin first removed, "Tell her of her traitor brother's crimes."

Ser Lancel was like all the Lannisters, comely and well-spoken but when he looked at her, there was neither kindness or piety in his green eyes as they bore into her, "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell upon Ser Stafford Lannister's host with an army of wargs, not three days ride from Lannisport. Thousands slain whilst in their sleep and after the slaughter, the vile northmen feasted upon their flesh."

Sansa felt her face go pale as horror seeped into her being.

"Nothing to say?" Joffrey asked as he looked at her, a slight sneer on his pouty lips.

Ser Dontos came riding up, "Your Grace, the poor child is witless."

"Silence fool." Joffrey ordered. He raised his crossbow in her direction, "You Starks are about as unnatural as those wolves you keep about. Don't think I have forgotten what your monster did to me."

"That was Nymeria, Arya's wolf." Sansa corrected, "Lady never harmed you." She was glad that Caspian had been able to get her direwolf sent back to Winterfell. Did Lady think about her? Howl at the moon whenever she got the chance? Or maybe she was with Robb and Grey Wind, fighting to get her back? She didn't know. She wished she did.

"I should have had that monster killed." Joffrey sneered, "Much like your father. I wish I had done it myself, I killed a man bigger than your father. They came to the gate asking for bread, so I shot the loudest one, straight in the throat." Sansa had a horrified look on her face, _And I wanted to be his queen?_ "Served them right. I am the king, not some _baker_."

"He died?" She asked. It was hard thinking of other questions when the very same but different quarrel was pointed right at her head.

"Of course he died." Joffrey said with a roll of the eyes, as if such a thing should have been obvious, "I shot him in the throat. There was a woman too, but I only got her in the arm." He frowned before lowering his crossbow, "I should shoot you as well, but if you die, so does my uncle Jaime-" Sansa nearly dared to let out a sigh of relief, "Dog, beat her." And the relief just left her like that. She should have known. She should have known better.

Joffrey liked to have his fun.

"Let me hit her." Ser Dontos galloped forward, wielding his 'morningstar' whose head was a mellon. She could have kissed the man right then and there as he galloped around on his ridiculous wooden stick, whacking her as gently as he could with his 'weapon'. It still hurt though, by the time of the second hit, her hair was sticky and the court was laughing.

_Laugh Joffrey_, She prayed, _Laugh and be done with it._

Once again, she should have known better, "Boros. Meryn." Ser Meryn seized Dontos and flung him away.

Boros was the one to seize her, "Leave her face." Joffrey commanded, "I like her pretty."

Boros drove his fist into her stomach, driving the air out of her. She could have doubled over, but Ser Meryn grabbed her by the hair and reeled her in. She heard the sounds of a sword being drawn and for a second, she saw her throat cut open. He laid the flat side of his blade onto her thigh and for a second, she thought the force would break a bone. She screamed as tears welled in her eyes, _Don't worry, it will be over soon._ She told herself as she lost count of the blows.

"Enough." She heard the Hound rasp.

Joffrey was of another mind, "Boros, strip her."

Boros placed a meaty hand on the front of her bodice and gave it a heart yank. The fabric ripped easily from her body down to her waist. She covered her breasts as quickly as she could. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.

"Beat her bloody." Joffrey continued, "We'll see how her brother-."

"_What the hell!?"_

Sansa turned her head and saw Caspian making their way towards the throngs, his lone eye burning in cold fury, _What? That can't be right._ She looked again, and she hadn't been wrong. Caspian's purple eye, the eye that rested in the left socket of his face and the left side of his face was covered in white linen bandages.

"Is this your notion of chivalry?" The Crown Prince asked, his voice calm unlike his eyes that had a burning look about them, "What sort of knight beats on a helpless maid?"

Ser Boros stepped up, his sword raised, "The type that follows his orders from the king." Ser Meryn's blade rasped as it was pulled out from its scabbard.

Caspian rose an eyebrow on his visible eye, "Oh, I was already in a mood, but I do admire for volunteering." Ser Boros looked confused before he found his sword hand in the clutch of a smiling Caspian before a sickening crack sounded through the bailey.

Ser Boros just looked at Caspian before he dropped to his knees, clutching the hand which had been in Caspian's grasp, now bent at an unnatural position, howling in pain. Caspian removed the knights' helmet and hit him on the side of the head. He dropped to the ground.

Sansa felt like jumping in joy at seeing the knight lie on the ground unmoving. She thought him dead, then noticed the slightly rising and lowered of his chest, _I can't be that lucky._

"Oh please, Ser Meryn, do try and attack me. It's not like I'm one of the best warriors in the kingdom or anything." She heard Caspian say, the bailey's suddenly deathly quiet. Ser Meryn didn't move to attack him and Caspian smiled at him, "That's a good boy." He said, as if he was talking to nothing more than a dog.

"W-What are you doing to my kingsguard!?" Joffrey nearly screeched.

Caspian casually flung Ser Boros' helmet to the side, "I'm teaching them manners. His hand will heal." The Prince frowned, "I should have cut off his sword hand. That would have served as a better warning." He then looked at Sansa, "Someone give her something to wear."

Sandor Clegane unfastened his cloak and tossed it to her. Sansa clutched it against her chest, the rough velvet rubbing against her skin but it would have never felt finer for her.

"You do realise she is to be your queen right? Tell me somewhere in that thing you call a head, there's a brain that actually knows that." Caspian said as he gave a stony hard glare at his older brother.

Joffrey squirmed from his sight, "I was punishing her!"

"For what? She doesn't fight her brother's battles for him."

"She has the blood of a wolf."

"...You are simply the most retarded lackwit I have ever met dear brother."

That seemed to anger the king as he growled, "You can't talk to me like that! I'm the king! Apologise!"

Caspian held up his hand in a show of surrender, "Yeah, you are right. I should apologise." He said, and a triumphant look came over Joffrey's face. His look dropped when Caspian spoke once more, "To all the lackwits that have ever existed, exist or will exist because you by far, make them all look like bloody geniuses. I never knew the bar would be set so low when it came to intelligence."

Joffrey's face went red with anger again, "You can't talk to me like that! I'm the king!"

"Unfortunately, yes you are." Caspian said with a roll of the eyes, "Gods save us all." He finished in a dismissive tone at his brother. Caspian turned to face her, "Are you alright?"

Sansa could only nod her head. She was still trembling and she could feel the pain from the blows, _I'm going to purple aren't I?_ She could have cried and hugged him then and there.

Behind Caspian, Joffrey was shaking with rage before he suddenly stopped and something caught his eyes, "What happened to your eye?" He was ignored as Caspian still continued to fret over Sansa. He growled, "Answer me!"

"No." Caspian said as he turned his head to face his brother.

"You will do as I command!" By now, the red had returned to his face.

"Why?"

"Because I am the king!"

Caspian just smiled sweetly as he moved towards his brother. Ser Meryn made to move but a sharp whistle from the sworn sword of Caspian stopped him. The whole bailey seemed to have no life in it as the court watched Caspian move towards his brother before laying a hand on his shoulder, "And this gives you power over me?"

Had Caspian ever been so tall? It almost seemed like he was looking down on Joffrey.

"I'm the king," Joffrey tried to show that he didn't feel threatened, but the fear was palpable. Sansa wanted to laugh at him, but she kept her mouth quiet, "Of course it does."

Caspian laughed. He swung an arm around his brother, "Let me tell you something big brother dear. As far as you are concerned, the most powerful person in Kings Landing as of this very moment, is not you, nor mother, nor our dear uncle." He looked at his brother with an even smile, "It's me, and do you know why?" He didn't give Joffrey time to answer, "Because I'm the guy with the army at my beck and call. So if I was you, thank the gods I'm not, I would start using whatever thing I call a brain inside that empty head of yours before I simply decided to take my army for a wander. You wouldn't want that would you? It might very well leave you without a head."

Joffrey opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out. Caspian smiled and just patted him on the head like a child, "There _is_ something in there after all."

"Mother will hear of this."

Caspian rolled his eyes as he moved away from him, "Do tell. I'll still be the one in charge of the army." He smiled, "Shall we send for her now?"

The king's face went red.

The Crown Prince laughed, "Nothing to say Your Grace? I thought as much." He gave his brother a parting look, "A word of advice dear brother, if you ever want to live to reach you twenties, I suggest you learn how to rule with compassion. Wanton brutality is no way to win your people's love."

Joffrey pointed at Sansa, "Mother says fear is better than love." He indicated at her once more, "She fears me."

"If you actually knew your history, you would know every king that ruled through fear never lived for long." Caspian began to walk away, putting an arm around Sansa and leading her away from the bailey, "That's some advice for you to consider their dear brother. I would hate it ever so much if you died at the hands of your own subjects when I'm furiously fighting to keep enemies at bay who want your head."

Sansa adjusted the velvet cloak of the Hound to cover her like a cloak as she was led by Caspian. Her eyes were red and tears were now freely falling from her eyes, "Thank you." She said quietly, in between sobs.

"It's the least I could do." Caspian said, his voice remorseful, "But I can _do_ more, and that's what I'm going to do."

XxX

Tyrion

Tyrion waddled as fast as his stunted legs could take him in the direction of the far end of the royal apartments. He had received news that Caspian had returned to King's Landing not several moments ago and he had already found himself in an altercation with his brother.

It was already the talk of the castle and soon enough, the city.

Although he was glad that someone was standing up for the Stark girl, he couldn't help but curse at his nephew. Couldn't he have done so at a different time or place, or better yet, not in front of the whole court? Joffrey had to seem like he held some sort of power as king.

He dreaded to think of the repercussions, _At least the public humiliation will serve to teach him some humility._ If only he were ever so lucky.

He reached the door that belonged to his nephew and instead of knocking burst into the room. His entrance seemed to startle the occupants, the Stark girl and his cousin. Of course, much to his relief, they were not in an improper state of undress or activity.

"_Uncle!"_ Caspian breathed out, his hand over his heart, "Don't you knock? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Tyrion turned his head to face his nephew and prepared to open his mouth and give him a rant on how to do things, such as humiliating Joffrey in a proper manner before stopping when he noticed the coverings on his face. He rushed towards him, "_Gods, _Caspian, your face!"

His nephew didn't seem to see a problem, "Tis just a scratch." Said Caspian dismissively, along with an accompanying flippant hand gesture.

"A _scratch_!?" Tyrion's voice could not have been any higher in volume or pitch, "Half your face is covered in bandages! Your eye-."

He was stopped by his nephew when he raised up a hand, "My eye is fine. I still have it. I told the maester the bandages were a little much, but he didn't seem to particularly care." He then gave him an amused smile, "Half my face? I doubt the bandages cover half my face."

Tyrion's heartbeat then slowed down as he released a sigh of relief, "So how did the battle fare?" The Acting Hand of the King noticed a slight twitch of the eyebrow and took that as a bad sign, "I hope it's good news."

"Oh it is." Caspian said with a bob of the head, "We broke the Dornish host and send it in retreat back down the Prince's Pass. Even managed to capture some valuable hostages."

That perked Tyrion's interest. He waddled towards the side board and poured himself a goblet of wine, "Who?"

"A bunch of Dornish nobles and knights, the most prevalent ones being Cletus Yronwood and Oberyn Martell." He finished rather nonchalantly as if the manner of the names he had given him were of no concern.

Tyrion nearly dropped his goblet. He just looked at his nephew, his mismatched eyes boring into his nephew. He waddled towards him slowly, "You captured the Red Viper? Along with a child of Dorne's second most powerful House?" His mind was already going through possible manoeuvres they can use these hostages into forcing Dorne to capitulate.

"Yeah." Caspian said with a nod. His nose scrunched up though in mild annoyance, "We could have captured Lord Anders Yronwood himself, but Asher ended up killing him." He then sighed at the hand and shrugged, "Well, it was in the midst of battle and Lord Anders was trying to kill him, so I guess nothing can be done about that."

"Where are these hostages?"

"Certainly not here." The prince was quick to reply, "My brother would have most likely had Oberyn's head chopped off. We don't need Dorne or the Martells to hate us more than they do already."

Tyrion nodded. His nephew's reasoning was sound. Joffrey would have most likely asked for the head of the Viper himself if he had been brought to King's Landing. It was better for them and everyone else that they be kept well out of the city and out of Joffrey's incapable hands.

He then couldn't help but smile, something Caspian picked up and raised a curious eyebrow, "What is it that you find so amusing to smile uncle?"

Tyrion swirled his wine within his goblet, "Things might finally be going our way."

Caspian didn't look confused. He thumbed in Sansa's direction who had remained quiet, "Last time I checked, Robb defeated a second Lannister host in training outside Lannisport and grandfather is being held at the Golden Tooth by the riverlords. I fail to see how things can be going our way."

"Come now dear nephew," Tyrion said as he got himself a seat, "Have you wondered why we aren't being besieged by Lord Renly's forces?"

A thoughtful look came across his nephew's face, "The thought had crossed my mind."

"No doubt Renly expected the Dornish host to distract the Storm lords long enough so that he could bring the full bare of his hundred thousand men on King's Landing, but he didn't suspect them to move so quickly or be broken so quickly either."

"I rode here with all the horse I had as fast as I can expecting to find King's Landing under siege." Caspian mused, "But lo and behold, no reachmen anywhere in sight. So where is he?"

Tyrion grinned, "He had to stop and re-organise his forces." All Caspian did was raise his eyebrow, "The ironborn are raiding all over the western coast of the continent. Reports say they have already taken the Shield Islands and they have engaged the Redwynne fleets."

Caspian began to grin himself, "To keep the support of the Reacher lords, he had to sent some of his forces back to protect the Reach didn't he?" Tyrion nodded before Caspian laughed, "The ironborn won't be his only problem then."

This time, it was Tyrion's turn to raise his eyebrow, "How come?"

"I sent Ser Buckler along with a force of fifteen thousand strong host to raid the Reach. I was hoping that it would force uncle Renly to break up his forces and send them back to take care off them." He shrugged his shoulders, "Seems like I should not have bothered if the ironborn were going to do it for me."

The two shared a hearty laugh before Tyrion turned his attention to Sansa. The girl had remained quiet throughout the whole conversation between himself and his nephew. He hopped of his chair and made his way towards her, "I heard about what happened." He said as he took a hand of hers into his. He couldn't help but notice that the bare touch of him seemed to revile her, "I'm not going to ask for you to forgive Joffrey, I'm sure by now any Lannister to you will just be the same." She noticed her eyes flicker behind him before they quickly returned to stare at his face. A crooked smile came onto his face, "All but one by the looks of it."

"I don't understand my lord." The girl said, her eyes seemingly finding fascination with his face, _All the girls her age find my face fascinating. It's the most handsome face they have ever seen._

He smiled at her once more, a knowing smile this time, "I'm sure you don't."

The door once again burst open, but this time, no-one jumped. All three pairs of eyes turned to face the newest entry, "Mother?" Caspian greeted as he looked at the panting frame of his blonde mother, her chest moving up and down, her hands holding onto her skirts lifting them up.

Tyrion faced her and smiled, "You seemed to have been in a hurry sweet sister."

She ignored him and the other person in the room, Sansa, as her eyes were already fixed to the sight of her son. Tyrion didn't know that the woman could ever move so fast as one minute he had blinked, and the next he was in front of Caspian, clutching his face and looking at his bandaged face.

"_Oh,_" She was nearly crying, "My poor baby."

Once again, his nephew seemed to still have trouble dealing with the show of affection his mother was lavishing on him, "I'm fine mother. Just a scratch."

_Oh, wrong words to say sweet nephew._ Tyrion thought as he sat back and watched the volcano explode.

"Just a _scratch_?" Cersei's voice was shrill and high-pitched to the point it stung his ears, "Half your face is covered in bandages."

"You over-exaggerate." The prince replied casually, drinking from the goblet in his hand, "It only looks bad because of the amount of bandages. Trust me, I know what they are covering and it's just a scratch. I still have my eye if that's what you are wondering about."

Cersei didn't seem to particularly care as she continued to fuss over him, "If those Dornish bastards think they can get away with this, they have another thing coming for them." Tyrion had to give her that at least. She might not have shown it and she might not have wanted him, but Cersei did love her children, and she was fiercely protective of them, even the black sheep of the gold flock, "I hope you made the bastard who did this suffer."

"Not really. I more along the lines, captured him." Caspian said with a shrug of the shoulders.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "Someone valuable?" He didn't need to ask if it had been the Red Viper who had given him his apparent 'scratch'. If it had been, the Crown Prince would not be sitting here leisurely as he was.

"Ser Daemon Sand." Caspian replied smoothly, "One of Dorne's finest swords. He tried to get me for cutting off the Viper's hand." He finished with a shrug, as if he was just talking about the weather.

Tyrion laughed, "You cut off Oberyn Martell's hand?"

"I couldn't very well kill him could I?"

"True." Tyrion admitted as he brought the goblet to his lips.

"So where is the famous Second Prince of Dorne?" Cersei asked, her voice still held anger in it. Clearly she was still fuming over the state of her son.

"Storm's End." The prince relied. He relaxed himself into his chair somewhat, "Along with other high value hostages."

"And they are not here why?" His mother asked, her hands now on her hips, a frown marring her pretty features.

"Joffrey." Was the simple answer that came from the prince. Beside him, Tyrion noticed Sansa flinch at the name, _He has done a number on you hasn't he?_ Something had to be done about the situation. If this carried on and word somehow managed to travel to Robb Stark, his brother would find himself in a less hospitable environment, _And since the escape attempt I planned failed, his environment must have already worsened._ He tried not to think about it.

Cersei bit her lip, "I heard what you did out there..." She said slowly. Sansa once again flinched and her hands went to places on her body. The places she had been struck by Ser Boros and Ser Meryn

"Then you should have taught him how to treat women better mother." Caspian reply was cold and sharp. He might have been raised by Tywin Lannister since he was seven, but he still held some personal values that he adhered to. This Tyrion knew.

"Your brother has always been wilful," Cersei said, trying to defend him, "You know this."

Caspian's hand drifted to his back, "I know," He said as the hand touched his shoulder before he quickly lowered it back to the side, "I'm also rather wilful too, but you don't see me doing any of the things he does. You should probably tell him Sansa isn't his toy anymore. If he or any of his kingsguard lay another hand on her, I _will_ give them the Boros treatment, and this time, I won't be breaking any bones. I will be cutting off sword hands."

Cersei seemed to nearly take a step back from the look that was on her sons' face. She looked like she wanted to speak, but she couldn't find the right words. She chewed her lip, "I'll tell him." She took one of his hands into her own, "But please, try not to fight with your brother. Can you do that for me?"

"As long as he stops being an ass, then I will gladly dance on broken glass." He removed his hand once more, his eyes drifting towards it before looking back at his mother, "But we both know that won't happen. It's already too late for him." He finished disparagingly. His eyes then locked onto Sansa, "Oh yes, Sansa is now my guest."

Cersei was taken back, "What? Sansa is _my _guest."

A smile formed on Caspian's lips. A small smile, so small that it was faint, but a smile nonetheless, "That wasn't a request mother. That was me simply stating you the matter of the fact. Sansa is now under my protection. Consider it payment for me bringing all those thousands of men."

Cersei gaped and Tyrion had to hold back a smile. He nudged Sansa gently, "Seems like your knight in shining armour has arrived." Although calling Caspian a shining knight in armour was rather inaccurate. If anything, he hated shiny things.

* * *

**AN: Chapter 9**

**I hope you enjoyed it. Chapter ten might be out tomorrow or the weekend. Whenever I have the time folks.**

**See ya.**

**TheForeverKing**


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire_

* * *

Caspian

From beyond the waters of the Blackwater rush, thick black smoke rose from deep within the kingswood. It seemed like a forest fire had started and was consuming the kingswood with vigour, if not for the fact that for the past few days, the fire had scarcely moved from its original, starting position.

"What do you think they are doing out there?" Asher asked, eyeing the rising smoke into the sky as it dissipated every inch as higher as it went into the sky.

Caspian hummed to himself before shrugging his shoulders, "Bonfire?" He suggested in jest. At times like this, humour was always one way to lighten the tension and chase away the feeling that you were most likely going to die in the coming days.

Asher's face scrunched up as he thought about. He then shook his head, "Nah," He said, "Fire's too big for that."

Caspian would have rolled his eyes but didn't feel like it. They both knew what was happening in the kingswood. Renly's arm had finally arrived within striking distance of King's Landing and he was now in the process of building siege engines to attack the walls.

From behind him, he had one of the horses neigh as it waited, "Well, it is an _army _of fifty thousand or so men, I think a little thick smoke should be the norm." They knew what it was, but that didn't mean they couldn't make light of the situation.

Actually, considering the whole situation and the fact that should King's Landing fall, Caspian would either be one of two things, dead or captured, he was fairly calm. Maybe it was because he wasn't in the thick of battle yet, but that was incorrect to say.

When the smoke had started rising in the distance, every sept with King's Landing was filled to the brim. People prayed to the gods for salvation and he was sure that the sacking of King's Landing was fresh in the memory of people who had managed to survive that night seventeen years ago.

Thankfully, the increased military presence managed to keep whatever public order that existed still existing. The supplies that Caspian had sent before the kingsroad from Storm's End and the Stormlands had been blockaded doing something to raise the morale. It had also served as an extra incentive for anyone willing to get free board and food to join the gold cloaks.

The City Watch's numbers had already been tripled in size to six thousand long before the supplies had come, but with the arrival of said supplies, they had seen the gold cloaks increase in number to eight thousand.

Eight thousand gold cloaks sounded far better than six thousand and even much better than two thousand. Even with the rather sizeable contingent of horse and professional soldiers that he had come with when he had raced to King's Landing thinking his uncle had finally got off his rear and stopped feasting to lay siege to the castle, they still numbered under twenty thousand, but then again, it also meant more defenders.

And when it came to siege warfare, the advantage always laid with the defenders...as long as Renly didn't try to starve them out, then he had all but won the city. They didn't have enough food to last for more than a couple of days.

Thinking this over, Caspian couldn't help but think this wasn't still enough. _Not enough._ The thought kept repeating itself within his head like a mantra as he watched the smoke rise into the sky with a barely noticeable frown on his handsome features. He could swear he could see the flickers of fire from deep within the kingswood on the other side of the rush, _I hope my gambit works._

He had a plan. It was always a good idea to always have a plan of some sort when it came to battle. His grandfather had taught him many things and he had learned many more whilst actually involving himself in real live combat during his time in Essos, but those engagements most of the time were not to the scale that he was about to participate in right now.

Tired of watching the smoke rise to the background noise of the waters of the Rush dancing in the river, Caspian turned on his heel and made for his horse, "Come on now, let's go back." They had already come to do what they wanted to do.

Asher gave him a silent nod of the head before following after Caspian to his own horse. The two began to make their way towards the River Gate, the most likely point of attack considering the direction his uncle was coming from.

As they made their way through the wharf, they noticed that no life was within sight of outside King's Landings' walls. Everyone with any common sense had gone and taken shelter within the city.

Although the city was going to be the subject of a siege, the people thought of King's Landing as the most safe location in the immediate region. Some had travelled north, braving outlaws and an abnormal large pack of wolves according to some stories if they were believed to be true.

The Riverlands could certainly be said to be safer than the Crownlands as of this moment. The Northmen and Rivermen controlled the entirety of that region, his grandfather having been pushed back all the way to the Golden Tooth and to make matters worse, Robb had somehow been able to bypass the Golden Tooth and run havoc within the Westerlands.

He grimaced at the thought, _Grandfather is going to have my head._ His letter to him imploring him to save the crops had somehow been able to go through to the man and he had actually listened. Caspian liked to think it was because out of all his grandchildren, Caspian was his favourite and most loved, his reasoning being that he was the only grandchild that Tywin Lannister had actually bothered to know.

But his far more realistic mind was telling him that his grandfather had seen the logic and reasoning within his words and had decided that burning the crops would do no good for the coming winter. For winter is coming.

The Stark words were the truest words of all the Great Houses as far as Caspian was concerned.

And if Robb running rampant in the Westerlands wasn't bad enough, the Ironborn had suddenly decided to introduce themselves into the war. They were raiding and taking land all along the western coast from the Westerlands all the way down to Dorne, and somewhat surprisingly considering the role Ned Stark had in the Greyjoy Rebellion, the North was left untouched.

_Did Robb make a deal with Balon Greyjoy?_ If he did, he couldn't really fault his old friend. He had effectively placed his grandfather in a difficult position with the only way to solve it being have to raise a third host to combat the ironborn occupying Lannisport. All Caspian knew was that by the end of this particular was, the Westerlands will be one of the most heavily ruined regions of the realm.

How many people had his grandfather called upon now? His initial host was thirty-five thousand strong and then the second one being trained by Ser Stafford that was ten thousand strong. In total that was forty-five thousand. It might not seem much compared to the total population of the region but forty-five thousand meant forty-five carpenters, crofters, farmers among various other professions.

When they won this particular war, his grandfather had better spend several days sitting on the privy to bring about as much gold as he could.

Out of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, six were in open conflict, but at least one, Dorne, had been cowed and wouldn't be interposing themselves into the internal strife that was occurring on the continent.

_Fucking Joffrey_... The prince cursed. This was all Joffrey's fault. Why did he have to kill Ned Stark? That was or might have very well been the cause of this war that had been dubbed the War of the Four Kings. If his older brother could have just been a normal, sound thinking boy, none of this would have ever happened.

Once again, it couldn't help but be repeated, _Fucking Joffrey!_

The River Gate was left open as Asher and Caspian trotted through on their horses. As they travelled towards the Red Keep in the distant, they had to bypass men running to and fro to get the defences ready. Parked to the side of the road were several carts and beams of wood that would be used to reinforce the gate when the tide of the battle had flowed to the point that sorties to the Rush to stop Renly's Reachmen from gaining a foothold had become impossible.

From behind a building, Caspian could see the long arm of a trebuchet just peeking over a small building, that particular trebuchet being one of the so called _Three Whores, _named aptly by the defenders because they will be giving it to the invading Reachmen.

They hadn't gone far when they had run into his favourite uncle, "Uncle Tyrion," Caspian greeted with a quirked eyebrow of curiosity, "What are you doing here?" He asked.

Tyrion glanced at his nephew, his black and green eyes boring into him, "Well, I just thought I should come and check the defences, see how they are doing."

"You need not have worried." The prince replied as they continued on their even pace to the Red Keep, "Everything is well in order."

The expression on Tyrion's face showed that he didn't particularly believe that, "Really? Because I am rather sure we had more men than I saw last time I came here...which was last night." His voice had dropped some of the playfulness that he always carried around with him.

Caspian merely raised a hand to scratch his chin, "Must have been your imagination uncle. The stress is getting to you."

"You should go find yourself a whore and fuck her Imp. Fucking is always a great way to relax." Caspian's sworn sword chimed in, "And you never know, tonight might be our last night in this wonderful world of ours." By the tone of his voice, he had clearly said the last part with sarcasm laced into his tone.

Tyrion looked to agree with him as he nodded his head, "That's a good idea there Ash-."

"-Asher-" The sworn sword corrected somewhat with a twitch of the eyebrow. Being given a playful nickname was not within the boundaries of propriety with the rather relaxed and free-wheeling sellsword turned sworn protector.

"-_er," _Caspian's uncle drawled. He turned his eyes towards Asher and had a crooked smile on his face, "See? I called you by your name." Tyrion chuckled in good humour when he saw the roll of the eyes from Asher, "Sweet nephew, may I ask something of you?"

Caspian turned his head ever so slightly to the side so that his uncle was in his field of vision, "Sure, what is it? I will try to answer to the best of my knowledge, but you will have to do the same for a question that I have been meaning to ask." The question had been on his mind ever since he started thinking about this whole war. Every war had a how and a why.

His father's rebellion against the Targaryen dynasty was an example. The why being Prince Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapping or eloping with Lyanna Stark depending on who was asked, but most being of the consensus that it was a kidnapping. The how being a bloody and brutal affair.

The prince didn't particularly care about the 'how', he wanted to know about the 'why' and from his knowledge, his dear uncle had been one of the main, albeit, unwilling and unknowing instigator into this whole war.

That, and his father getting gorged to death by a boar.

"You remember my cousin, Lancel?" Tyrion spoke as they trodded along the empty streets of King's Landing. The streets couldn't be called empty, their were still some people going to and fro on the streets, but the most movement belonging to the soldiers overseeing the defence of the city, "The eldest son of your great-uncle Ser Kevan?"

It took a moment but Caspian was able to recall the name and put a face to it. Lancel had also been his father's squire if he remembered correctly, him and Tyrek Lannister, the only living child of his other but dead great-uncle, Tygett Lannister.

He nodded his head slowly as he recalled him, "Isn't he a knight now?" He had been knighted after his father's death. He didn't know when only that when he had met him a few times before, others addressed him as _Ser _Lancel now instead of just Lancel. He also happened to hold himself with a rather deadly combo of youthful arrogance untampered by any self-doubt or humour and the knighting had certainly seemed to make him worse.

Then again, he had been a squire underneath his father and he didn't have any of that arrogance. He wondered where it had come from, even he wasn't as bad as he was when he was knighted. And Caspian was a _prince_ if the title could not be stressed enough. A prince _and _a knight, one of the youngest to ever be knighted in fact, the only one younger he could recall younger than him being knighted being one of the Great Bastards of Aegon the Unworthy, Daemon Blackfyre.

"That he is." Tyrion admitted with a mirthful look in his eyes, a small smirk on his lips, "Apparently, anyone can become a knight nowadays."

Caspian knew the truth in those words. Names like Gregor Clegane, Armory Loch, Boros Blount among many others just kept flooding his head. He wondered if there were any more true knights in the world, _Ser Loras is probably one. He does hold himself like a knight should, but also has a rather arrogant demeanour to go with him._ His uncle Jaime wasn't any better.

Sure, he had once told him the reason for why he had killed Aerys, sullying his own name, but others like Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne and the other members of the Kingsguard had stayed true to their oaths, even if they fought for a mad king and his rather unthinking son.

"Quite true," Asher mused, "A reason why I never wanted to be a knight. Too many oaths and vows for my liking." And the overhanging knowledge that if he was good enough, he could be called up to the Kingsguard and being celibate was not one of his life plans...or anywhere within his plans for life.

"So what about him?" The prince asked, scratching the faint scar that ran across his face from his left brow to his right cheek. From a distance, one could not even tell that he had it, but from close up, it was noticeable, as faint as it was. His helmet and quick reflexes from his part had saved him from taking the full brunt of Ser Daemon's sword and maybe even losing his nose.

He had even heard some of the ladies of the castle comment that it did nothing for his previously handsome features and in fact made him seem even more comely than he had already been. Something about the scar giving him some kind of aura. He did not know, nor did he find himself caring much.

Tyrion seemed to mull over what to say before speaking once more, "The boy has asked me if he could have a command of his own during the coming battle." He said with a sigh.

The prince's face scrunched up in thought, "A command? He is six-and-ten. A little young is he not?"

His uncle cast him a dry look, "And you are five-and-ten, yet you have commanded an entire host in a battle. I do believe that is called calling the kettle black."

The prince was unfazed on being called on his hypocrisy as he shrugged, stifling a yawn, "I am a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms." He said, "It was expected of me." His brother was never going to be someone that would lead anyone in combat. He doubted that Joffrey would even be able to lead an army down a street, "And why are you asking me this? You _are_ the Hand of the King last time I checked, even if you are only acting for grandfather. You are in charge of the city defences along with Ser Aron the master-at-arms, why are you asking me to give him a command? You have the authority." Caspian pointed out with a befuddled eyebrow quirked up his brow as he looked at his uncle.

He was surprised when his uncle just laughed out in a loud manner, surprising both Caspian and Asher, "You may not have noticed it sweet nephew," His uncle finally said, a crooked, sly smile on his face, "But I am the twisted demon monkey. The people hardly think of me as a leader. Even though I have had no part in it, the people blame me somehow for nearly every bad thing that has happened in the city. You on the other hand?" He motioned a hand to him, "Look at you, an army that outnumbers us by more than double our own numbers and you are not even fazed. You my sweet nephew, are the eye of the storm in the middle of this shit storm we find ourselves in. The men will more likely follow your orders and follow you than they would follow the Imp."

Caspian frowned at the words. He wanted to argue and say that his uncle had also been helpful in the preparations for the defence of the city, but he could not help but think his uncle was right. He sighed, "Give yourself some credit uncle. You aren't half bad." He smiled slyly at his uncle, "Not as good as me, but then again, not many are. Not really your fault, but you have done good holding the city despite everything that has occurred."

"Oh, surely you jest." Tyrion remarked with a small smile on his own lips, "So how about it? Will you give Ser Lancel his own command?"

"I will think about it. I doubt many of my men will like it if I give command to a boy who has yet proven himself in combat." He looked back towards the Red Keep in the far distance.

"That is all I'm asking for sweet nephew." Tyrion said, "So what was your question for me?"

Caspian brought a hand to his face and scratched his chin in thought, "Well," He began as he thought of how to ask the question, "I have been thinking."

"Thinking?" Asher chimed in, "What a surprise. As if you do not do that every second of your time."

The prince was quick to raise a hand and flash his sworn shield the middle finger before speaking once more, "Well, I was just thinking how this entire war started, because I clearly had nothing better to do with my time, I have to ask though," He turned to face his uncle, his own mismatched eyes now having a firmer look in them, the sun hitting his eyes making his eyes lighter in colour. His deep, endless blue eye becoming a bright blue like the sunset sea and his deep purple, a light lilac, "One of the reasons this war started was because Lady Catelyn had you arrested. _Why _did she have you arrested?"

Tyrion looked at his nephew before sighing, "It matters not now anyway sweet nephew. The gods sought fit to free me and the crime I was accused of," Caspian watched as his eyes suddenly darkened and turned firm as he stared hard at the Keep, _He's thinking of someone_. The Prince thought, "I had no part in it. I am innocent of it, even if the gods had not judged me innocent, I am and always will be innocent of it." Tyrion finished, barely stopping himself from grinding his teeth.

"That is a lot of anger there." Asher remarked when he noticed the stony expression on the Lannister's face, "Careful that it doesn't make you do anything stupid."

The prince nodded his head in agreement, "That is all good and all, but you did not answer my question uncle. Why were you arrested?"

Tyrion shrugged, "Apparently, I tried to kill Bran Stark."

Caspian gaped at his uncle, "Huh?"

"Exactly."

"Question," Asher said slowly. The others turned their attention to the former sellsword before watching him as he raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the Red Keep, "Is that...smoke coming from the Red Keep?"

Caspian turned his attention back to the Red Keep and true indeed, rising from the Red Keep was smoke. Smoke not of the same intensity or volume such as the one coming from the kingswood, but smoke nonetheless.

"A fire?" Caspian suggested as the reason for the smoke.

Tyrion grabbed his reigns and spurred the horse to increase in pace, "We should go and see."

XxX

Sansa

Sansa had always dreamed that when her moon's blood had come, finally making her a woman and fit to be wedded and bedded. She would be happy. Unfortunately, as quickly as she was learning with the walls of King's Landing, that was not to be.

On the occasions that she went to the godswood to actually pray instead of seeing Ser Dontos, she prayed that her moon's blood would not come until King's Landing was far back behind her, with it's walls, it's Red Keep and most of all Joffrey. She had once swooned at marrying the prince and now king and bearing his children for him as his queen, but now, nothing else revolted her so much.

After everything he had done and seeing what a despicable slimy creature that he was, she did not want him to touch her, let alone be inside her.

So when her moon blood had come, she had panicked. Thoughts filled with terror raced through her mind as she looked down at her bloodied thighs and on the bloody red spot on her bed.

"No, no, no." She whimpered pitifully as she shook her head. Maybe this was all a dream and she would soon find herself waking up? But even she wasn't that childish nor naïve.

She didn't know what she was doing, nor did she have a clear, coherent recollection, but she knew that in her desperation she had immediately ran towards the wash basin. She had scrubbed furiously in between her thighs and legs to remove the blood, the water turning pink as it mixed with her blood when she was done.

She knew that when her maidservants saw it, they would _know_ and they would report it to the queen.

Then she remembered the bloody spot on her bedclothes. She rushed back to her featherbed, feet scampering on her carpet, she stopped at the bedside and noticed the red spot. She couldn't let them see, she just couldn't or they would make her lay with Joffrey.

She took a knife and began to hack at the edges of the stain, cutting it out, _What if they see the hole?_ The question went through her mind, but she continued nonetheless. She stopped before grabbing the bedclothes and looking around, noticing the hearth in her room, _I'll burn them. Burn them all._

She bundled the bedclothes into the hearth and covered them in oil before setting it alight. The flames danced as they began to burn the bedclothes before she looked back at her featherbed and noticed that her blood had soaked through to the featherbed. She scampered back to burn the thing too.

She couldn't let them see.

The featherbed was big and cumbersome, but she had been able to place half of it into the hearth as black smoke eddied around her, slowly rising to the ceiling of her chambers as the smoke spread around, filling every nook and cranny it could find.

Then the door burst open and a maid gasped at the sight she was seeing.

In the end, it took three of them to pull her away and by then it was pointless. Her thighs were bloody again, her body betraying her to Joffrey.

The fire was put out and the servants carried away the featherbed. They cleared the worst of the smoke by fanning the room and opening the shutters to air it out. Then they brought her to a tub so that she could clean up and a cloth to be placed between her legs. The maids came and went, muttering between themselves and looking at her strangely, whether it be pity or annoyance at her behaviour and acts before, Sansa didn't care and could only feel folly at her activities.

One of the servants went away and brought her a wool shift to wear, "It's not as pretty as your own things, but it will serve." She said as she gave it to her, "Your shoes weren't damaged by the smoke or fire. That means you won't have to walk bare footed to the Queen."

Cersei Lannister was breaking her fast when Sansa was ushered into her solar. The queen cast a quick glance in her direction and motioned to a seat, "You can sit." She said graciously, "Are you hungry?"

The sight of the food made her feel ill. Her stomach tightened into a knot with each second looking at the food, "No thank you, Your Grace."

"I don't blame you. Between Tyrion, Caspian and Renly, everything does taste like ash. What exactly where you hoping to accomplish with your little stunt."

Sansa suddenly found herself interested in looking down at the floor below, "I was scared. The blood, it frightened me."

"The blood is the seal of your womanhood. I am sure Lady Catelyn had prepared you for it. You just flowered girl, nothing more, nothing less."

Flowered? She didn't feel like she had just flowered. The feeling she felt was more akin to a flower that had just wilted rather than flowered, "I thought it would be different."

The queen raised a delicate eyebrow, "Different how?"

"I don't know..." Sansa said slowly as she tried to think, "I guess more magical and less...blood."

The queen laughed an airy laugh, "Wait till you give birth girl. A woman's life is nine parts mess and one part magical...and the parts that look magical are the messiest of all." Her green eyes trained on her, "So do you know what that means?"

Sansa found herself giving a reluctant nod of the head, "Yes. It means I am now fit to be wedded and bedded to King Joffrey." She felt like vomiting at the thought.

"A prospect that you no longer find enticing I see." The queen said, a wry smile on her lips, "I cannot fault you for that. Joffrey has always been a difficult child. Even his birth, I laboured half a day and screamed so loudly when I pushed him from between my legs. I thought Robert could have heard me from the kingswood."

"King Robert was not with you during the birth?"

"Robert? Robert was off hunting. Whenever it was time for me to give birth, he would run off to the kingswood with his huntsmen and hounds and when he came back, he would present me with some stag fur or head of some kind and me, a baby or on that particular day, two babies." She picked up a goblet within her hands, "Not that I _wanted_ him to stay mind you. I had an army of midwives and Grand Maester Pycelle and of course my brother. When they told him that he couldn't be in the birthing room, he just smiled and asked which one of them had suggested such a thing."

"Devoted my brother is, Joffrey will never show you that same level of devotion," _If at all_, were the words that weren't unsaid, "You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He has never forgotten that day by the river when you saw him get shamed, so he shames you instead. You are stronger than you seem though, so I suspect you will survive a few moments of humiliation. I did. You may never love the king, but you will love his children."

The response was automatic, "I love His Grace with all my heart."

The queen frowned, "You better find yourself some new lies girl. That one is becoming terribly boring and repetitive. Renly probably won't like that."

"The High Septon says that the gods will never permit Joffrey to win since he is the rightful king."

A half smile formed on the queen's lips, "Yes. Robert trueborn son and heir. Though Joff would cry every time he picked him up. Robert wanted smiles and laughs. Caspian and his bastards seemed to be the only ones to gurgle and laugh with his touch. Do you want to be loved Sansa?"

"Everyone wants to be loved." replied Sansa.

"I see flowering hasn't made you any brighter." The queen said derisively, though her tone stayed the same, "Allow me to share with you one piece of wisdom that you will hopefully live long enough to use. Love is poison. A sweet poison it maybe, but poison nonetheless, and like all poisons, it will kill you."

XxX

Sansa had been given assigned to a new chamber and with that chamber a warning not to do the same folly that she had done in the last one. Her old chambers had suffered smoke damage and nearly every item smelled of burning smoke and had to be thrown out, along with the room having to be redecorated.

Her newest chambers were not as large as her old ones, but they would serve their purpose. Inside, she found that the servants had moved into her new chambers any of her personal belongings that had not been damaged by the smoke.

After sending away her servants, Sansa had quickly gone to her bed. She then began to think of her situation. She was now a woman and therefore, fit to be wedded and bedded...to Joffrey.

The thought of being his queen made her stomach churn and filled her with trepidation. _I suspect you will survive a few moments of humiliation. I did._ Those were the queens words and they did not brighten the future that lay ahead of her.

Joffrey had humiliated her more times than she thought she could handle as his betrothed, what would happen when she finally became his queen? She didn't want to think about it, so she stopped thinking about it.

She only hoped that she could escape from this hell that was King's Landing, _I should not have gone to the queen that day._ She chastised herself. If she had just accepted her father's decision to send her and Arya back to Winterfell, she would not have to suffer the way she was suffering now and Arya would still be alive.

A knock on her door roused her from her thoughts. She had requested not to be disturbed and wondered who it could be, _Oh please, not Joffrey._ Did the queen tell her son? Of course she would. She wasn't under any obligation not to tell Joffrey anything and she doted on that monster like no mother has ever doted on a child before.

Then she realised that if it had been Joffrey, he would have just entered her chambers without waiting for an answer. She straightened herself out and went towards the door and opened it to find a familiar face on the other side.

She smiled, a true smile, not one of those forced ones she had been forced to wear whenever she was in the public's eyes with Joffrey, "Caspian."

He raised a hand in greeting, a mirthful look on his face, "I hear you nearly started a fire." He said, "Did you see Renly's fires and were feeling left out?"Jested the prince at Sansa's own inconvenience.

Sansa's face flushed as she recalled today's earlier actions, "There is a perfectly reasonable excuse for that." She said as she invited him inside.

The prince walked into the room, his hands lazily placed into the pockets of his coat, "Please do tell. I am rather interested in your reason, maybe it will make me laugh some." He found a seat and took to it, raising his legs and resting them on a table.

Sansa wanted to berate him for his attitude but found herself unwilling as she took a seat herself, "You will laugh." She said, her face still aflame.

He rolled his eyes, "That is primarily the reason I want to hear it. Maybe it will be nice to think before my dear uncle Renly starts flinging large stones, arrows and soldiers at us."

"Are you not scared?" She asked, trying her best to change the subject of the conversation, and what better topic was there than the oncoming battle, "It is said your uncle outnumbers us by more than double the defenders."

Caspian bobbed his head, "He does." He admitted easily enough, without seemingly a care in the world, "But the first thing you should know about siege warfare is that the advantage always lies with the defenders. Renly is the one that will be trying to enter the city. As long as he doesn't outnumber us by a stupidly large degree or try to starve us out, we will be fine."

"And if Lord Renly decides to starve us out?"

"Then we might as well bend over and kiss our sorry arses good bye."

Sansa nearly faulted, "You are such an inspiring leader."

Caspian cast her a smile, "I like to think so too." He then looked at her, straight in the eyes. His mismatched eyes staring into her own blue eyes. Sansa could not stop herself from admiring his features. Joffrey had been handsome in his own way, and so was Caspian and the faint scar that ran across his face made him even more so, if such a thing was possible, "Nice try, trying to change the subject, now do tell me about your little fire starting habit this morn."

Sansa found herself smoothing out her shift in her hands, her face unable to look at those eyes again, "I had my first...moon's blood." She struggled to say.

Caspian just looked at her, his expression unchanging from the usual calm, even and relaxed look he always carried with him. He eventually spoke, "That must have been...messy." He said, slowly.

Sansa could only nod, "I panicked when I saw the blood and I didn't want others to see..." The rest went unsaid because it didn't need to be said. She knew that her old friend will be able to get the gist of what she was trying to say.

She saw Caspian frown, "If the gods are good, maybe a stray arrow will hit my brother during the upcoming battle."

She gasped, "You would wish that on your brother?" Joffrey was no saint, far from it, but she didn't think someone could think like that about their own brother.

"There is no love lost between me and my dear brother." The prince said that was accentuated with a dismissive wave of the hand, "If he were to die, apart from our mother, no one will particularly miss him. I am more of a mind to believe people would actually start celebrating."

A wild thought came into the mind of the auburn haired maiden and she nearly opened her mouth to voice it but could not find it within herself to pose the question. How she ask her friend to slay his own brother? She doubted he would even do such a thing and he may look at her more differently and she at least wanted to have a friend within these red castle walls.

Caspian noticed her gaping mouth and raised an eyebrow, "Hm, what is it?"

She closed her mouth and quickly shook her head, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so my Lady Sansa." The prince said, "If you are ever in need of me, no matter what the task, I am right here for you to use in whatever means you wish. I exist to serve."

She didn't know whether he was just being playful or whether he was serious, but nonetheless, she merely smiled, "I will be sure to use your services whenever possible." If they survived the oncoming battle of course.

XxX

Tyrion

Sup with his darling sister was an ordeal Tyrion could live without. He didn't know whether she would finally take this chance to try and kill him, but he hoped that his sister was smart enough to know that if she did kill him, Caspian would never love her, even after all her recent efforts to try and repair their relationship.

Tyrion smiled, he at least had that hanging over her head. And it absolutely galled Cersei that her son was more amicable and loving to him than herself, but she had only herself to blame, but knowing his sister, she more than likely blamed him for that as well.

_Everything is the dwarf's fault._ He thought as he made his way towards his sister's chambers. He was dressed in a plush velvet tunic of Lannister crimson. He had decided not to wear his chain of office, his sister disliked knowing that he was the King's Hand.

Varys caught up with him when he was crossing the yard and fell into step with him, "My lord," The eunuch greeted with that smile of his, "I do believe I have some rather shocking news for you."

Tyrion didn't need this, especially not with what he already had on his dining plate. The Westerlands being ravaged by ironborn and northmen and Renly outside the city walls, he hoped it was good news and thus he asked the question, "Good news or bad?"

"I think some would say bad news." The eunuch replied with a nervous titter.

He sighed, "Go on then."

"The ironborn raided Oldtown just several days past."

Tyrion found himself particularly uncaring. Oldtown was a valuable as any town to a culture of reavers like those of the ironborn. It was a place of much wealth and was one of the Seven Kingdoms primary port, right behind King's Landing. Much wealth could be found there.

"I am surprised they didn't take it." He replied, "They took Lannisport." Last reports stated that a third host was still in the midst of being called upon to go and recapture the port city. Thankfully, Casterly Rock was still untouched.

The eunuch gave him a slimy smile, "That they did, but Lord Randyll had the grace of splitting his host of 50,000 into two. One went in the direction of Highgarden and the other in the direction of Oldtown, and it just so happens Lord Ralph happened to be in the area with his own force and well...I'm sure you can imagine what happened next."

"They fought amongst each other?" Tyrion asked with a quirked eyebrow. That battle must have been a sight to see. A three-way battle between three different factions fighting for different beliefs.

The eunuch shook his head, "No, no, my lord. They actually unknowingly joined forces to repel the ironborn. After that, Lord Buckler led his host away without any trouble from the Reach host."

"The enemy of my enemy huh?" It seemed as if the ironborn were public enemy number one as of this moment in time, "Anything else?" The eunuch handed him a parchment of rolled up paper. He squinted to read it through the torchlight of the yard, "Gods be good..." He said softly, "Both of them?"

"I fear so my lord. So sad. Both of them so young and innocent."

At that moment, Tyrion remembered the direwolf howling when Bran fell from the tower, _Are they howling right now?_ He rolled up the parchment, "Have you told anyone else?" He asked, his face stony.

Varys shook his head, "Not yet my lord, but of course I must."

Tyrion nodded as he placed the paper away, "I will tell my sister of this news." And with that, he waddled away towards his original destination, _Will she be happy about this? She had wanted that Bran boy dead._

Cersei looked especially lovely that night. She wore a deep green velvet dressed that was low cut and brought out the colours of her eyes. Her tousled hair fell perfectly across her bare shoulders and around her waist, a woven belt studded with emeralds. He waited until she was seated and had been served wine before passing the letter.

"I take it you are pleased."

She made a sour expression on her delicate face, "Jaime threw him out of the window. Not me. _For love_, he said, as if that would please me. Why should I be blamed for every Stark that stubs his toe?"

Tyrion took a drink of his wine, "He saw you." He pointed out.

"I could have frightened him into silence." Cersei said as she put away the letter, "This was Greyjoys work, I had nothing to do with it."

"Then let us hope that Lady Catelyn believes that."

His sister's eyes widened, "She wouldn't-."

"-Kill Jaime? What would you do if Joffrey and Tommen were murdered?"

"I still hold Sansa!"

"Correction, _Caspian_ holds Sansa."

Her face immediately took on an ugly frown that looked out of place, yet at the same time seemed right at home, "I am the Queen Regent, he will listen to me."

"Not whilst he holds the loyalty of many of the soldiers within King's Landing." Her frown deepened and Tyrion looked around, "Now where is this food you promised me? I do remember you saying something about supping."

Cersei sat a tasty table, that could not be denied. Tyrion didn't think he had ate finer in his life and yet he had, but he could see that the news about the Stark boys had made her sour.

"That was a fine meal." He admitted, still surprised that he was still alive, but then again, they had shared food from the same kitchen and Cersei would not want to poison herself.

Cersei rose from her seat and made her way towards the window and stared out in the direction of the Blackwater Rush. The fires Renly had set some days ago were now long gone, the smoke having drifted away into the sky. It would only mean that he had finally finished building his siege engines and was now marching on them.

Tyrion expected to see his vanguard rather soon.

"I hear Joffrey is planning on fighting." He heard his sister finally say.

Tyrion had to take a moment to make sure that he had heard that correctly, and he had. He smiled, "The boy is finally making sense. The men will fight more fiercely knowing their king is among them."

"He is _fifteen_." Cersei stressed.

"And I do believe that goes for your other son too. You know, his twin, Caspian." Tyrion said dryly, "If he's fighting, why not his beloved big brother?"

The queen waved her hand dismissively, "Joff isn't ready. Caspian is. He has been ready for years."

"Nothing will happen to the boy. He will have brave Ser Meryn Trant and that new one, Ser Orsmund guarding him. Let's not forget he will have the finest armour gold can buy."

"His place isn't on the battlefield." Cersei continued to insist.

"And it certainly isn't on the throne either." Tyrion remarked with a roll of the eyes, "In fact, the one who should be king is the one who will be leading the men into battle, like a good king does. In fact, if you had actually followed Robert's will, there wouldn't be a war." _But most likely, Jaime and Cersei would have lost their heads._ He cared nothing for Cersei, but Jaime was different. He loved his brother and he would protect him in his own way.

There was a moment of silence, before Cersei cast a dirty look in his direction, "Do you think of me an idiot?"

Tyrion shook his head, "No, I would say you possess above average intelligence."

"You are sending my oldest off to die in battle so that Caspian can take his place."

"From what Pycelle told me whilst he was in the dungeons, Caspian is the oldest." He leaned on the table and linked his hands, "Please do tell me the reasoning you had when you decided to tell Robert that dear Joffrey was the eldest."

"Because he is Jaime's son."

And there it was. Tyrion knew there was no other reasoning behind Cersei's decision. She loved his dear brother and had loathed Robert. He knew that Cersei would have preferred seeing Joffrey on the throne rather than Caspian any day of the week, maybe even Tommen and Myrcella.

But he just couldn't understand how his sister could not see what she had created in Joffrey. Even she should have noticed that Caspian was of the better temperament to sit on the Iron Throne, becoming the first king worthy enough to sit upon it for the first time in fifty years.

Caspian was everything Joffrey wasn't, even if he hid it behind a carefree and relaxed personality. If that was the case, his lord father wouldn't have spend anywhere near the time he took his darling nephew as a ward and squire. Tywin had seen the same thing Tyrion saw in him, a diamond in the rough that glistened brightly, that just needed some fine tempering.

Tyrion could only shake his head, "Joffrey will bring the Seven Kingdoms to ruin I warn you." He said, "Better hope that when we win this war and everything is over and done with, father is able to turn your boy into a king that _doesn't_ instigate another Robert's Rebellion."

Cersei snarled, "Don't you dare compare my son with that mad man."

Tyrion couldn't even say a word in return. Was Cersei so wilfully blind to what monster she had unleashed on the Seven Kingdoms by seating him on the throne?

_Gods help us all._

* * *

**AN: Chapter 10.**

**Hope you guys enjoy it. The Battle of King's Landing will be starting next chapter. Only the start though, I will be having some development before that. I plan to make the battle itself a chapter by itself probably.**

**See ya and leave a review. Those things make me feel appreciated.**

**TheForeverKing**


	11. Chapter 11

**Silver Crow: That's the thing with Cersei. If you have read A Feast For Crows, things that should be obvious to anyone, she is completely blind to them either wilfully or not, in the case of Joffrey. Everyone knows that he is Aerys the Third in the making but she just thinks of him as strongly willed, among various other things. **

**Deep down, she may know Caspian is better fit to be a king, but she's wilfully blind to that because, well, she loathed Robert and Caspian is Robert's son and Joffrey is Jaime's. As far as she is concerned, the choice is easy to see who she would prefer to be king.**

**OMAC001: Soon enough, but when he learns of it...you shall have to wait to find out what he will do. He's a pragmatic sort of guy remember? He'll try to do the most pragmatic thing that wouldn't ruin the unity of the realm. Everything he does is for the realm instead of his own family.**

**DraekonGreyCloak: _White_ hair actually, not silver...or a really platinum blonde that makes his hair white.**

**CainTheFirstDemon: Tywin is stuck all the way at the Golden Tooth...**

**Ninazu: That's Cersei's character. She loathed Robert so much in the books that she couldn't bare to have his children, but in my story, she did have his child and well? Some of her loathing for her husband transferred to him but she also loves him because, well, Cersei's only redeeming feature is that she loves her children, as strangely as she shows it...that and her cheekbones.**

**Saint River: Mate...can you see into the future or something? :O**

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Game of Thrones/A Song of Fire &amp; Ice_

* * *

Theon

It had been done and there was no going back, but the dreams wouldn't let him be. They kept coming and coming, each time he closed his eyes, he saw their faces...No, he saw their heads. Their heads dipped in tar and placed on the gates.

_Mercy._

He would always cry out for mercy in his dreams. He always did, but when he tried to open his mouth, his mouth was like the baked sand of the desert and the words would wither and die in the back of his throat.

And then they would devour him, devour him with those same eyes they had when they died. When someone touched him, he awoke with a start, whirling for the dagger he kept on his persons. He only managed to drop the blade to the floor.

His squire, Wex, danced away from him. The man known as Reek stood behind him, his face lit by the candle he carried.

It took some time, time for the grogginess to leave him and return his senses to him, but it happened. He looked at the at the two, "What?" It seemed that his senses and wits had not returned as quickly as he had thought, "What are you doing in my bed chambers? Why are you here? _Why_?"

"My lord prince," Reek began. Prince, that was the title he styled himself when he took Winterfell, it was only fit for someone like him, for someone that would go on to rule the Iron Islands as King of the Ironborn, "Your sister is here. You instructed us to awake you when she arrived."

Ah yes, he had called for his sister from her prize of Deepwood Motte, "About time," He said, running a hand through his locks of hair, from his window, the first rays of dawn creeping over the towers of the capital of the North, "Where is she?"

"Loren took her and her men to the Great Hall to break their fast." Reek told him, "Will you go see her now?"

Theon nodded as he rose from his bed and pulled his blankets to the side, "Yes. Wex, hot water." He instructed his squire who also doubled as his attendant. A shiver rolled through his body, "And close those bloody windows."

It was cold, cold like that dream forest that he dreamed of late. The forest with the wolves that had the faces of children.

This should not have happened. He had finally gone back to the Iron Islands, his old friend Robb-. Theon frowned at the thought, _I am no friend of Robb's now._ It had been so simple. Go to his father and request his aid in the war against the Crown and the Lannisters, but his father had already released the ironborn along with the west coast of Westeros, from Lannisport to Starfell, but Balon had left the North untouched.

_In fear of my life_. Theon had tried to tell himself, but the more he thought about it, the more likely the reason why he never ordered any attacks on the Northern coasts was because the ironborn would lose faith in a leader that would sacrifice a child of his own.

When he had returned, the North was ripe for the taking and Theon had decided to betray Robb's expectations and friendship in order to prove to his father that he was still an ironborn. A child of the Iron Islands.

And to prove it, he had attacked the North. His sister had also accompanied him with her own forces, no doubt to see if he was worth the trouble or succeeding their father on the Seastone Chair. At the thought of Asha, he gnarled his teeth, he was the rightful heir, not some woman, sister or not.

He finished his bathing and dressed himself in wool and ringmail along with a buckled sword and a dagger. His wretched sister would look down on him if he wore fine clothes, that was not the ironborn way.

He recalled the time she embarrassed him on his own father's table, _Her sweet suckling babe. Well I have my own dagger and I know how to use it as well._

Last but not least, he put on the cod iron he had crafted for himself as the Prince of Winterfell. It was ugly and misshapen, but Mikken the blacksmith lay dead in the lichyard and the new one was only good for a few rudimentary things. It didn't matter, it was only a prince's crown. He would have a far grander one when he came onto his seat as king.

When he left the his room, he fell in step with his guards. It was a grim reality, but Winterfell and the rest of the North most likely, wanted him dead. The moment he had returned with the heads, ironborn started dying. He had already lost several good men and sooner or later, he was going to die as well.

He knew many of his men wanted to leave this hostile place, but Winterfell was _his_ seat. He had won it and nothing will drive him away. Not them, or some woman.

_It was her doing._ Then thought. He knew it was his sisters' doing, he just knew it. She had allowed this to happen, taking her merry time instead of answering his urgent commands, _She wants me dead, for my rightful crown._

He entered the Great Hall and found Asha seating among the high seats of the Starks, eating a capon from her fingers and the rest of the men seating among the trestles breaking their fast and talking amongst themselves. They were so loud none noticed his appearance.

Theon looked around, _This isn't right._ The Great Hall could seat ten times the number of men in the Hall right now, and some of the men eating were his very own, "Where are the rest?"

"This are all of them m'lord prince."

Theon bristled, "_All_ of them? How many did she bring?"

"Around twenty by my count."

Theon couldn't believe it. He quickly marched towards the high seat where his sister sat. She had been laughing at something before she noticed his approach, "Well if isn't my lovely brother, the Prince of Winterfell. Or is it the Prince of Fools I wonder?" She asked, a mocking grin forming on her lips.

"Envy isn't pretty sister."

Her eyebrow quirked in mirth and curiosity, "Envy?"

"What else would you call it Asha?" Theon said, "I took Winterfell with thirty men and it took you a thousand men and a moon's turn for Deepwood Motte."

She took a drink, "Well, I never did boast me self a noble warrior like you Theon." She eyed him with a mocking look, "So tell me, which one put up the most fight, the babe or the cripple?"

Theon felt blood rushing to his face. He took no joy from those heads, no the bodies of the headless children he showed to the castle. Maester Luwin had asked him for leave to sew the heads back onto the bodies and bury them within the crypts.

He had refused that idea. He needed the heads to be placed on the gates.

"I treated Bran and Rickon generously." He said, "And they rewarded my trust by trying to escape. They brought this among themselves."

"So do we all brother."

His wits were at an end, "How do you expect me to hold a castle with twenty men?"

"Ten, actually." Asha corrected, "And I don't expect you too." She indicated with a nod of the head towards the Hall, "The others return with me. You wouldn't want your darling sister to walk alone in the dark alone now would you?" She swung her legs from the table, "Come now, let us go somewhere we can talk privily."

She was right and the thought galled him, but he stewed in quiet as he lead her towards Ned Stark's solar. The dying embers in the hearth crackled in the background as he talked, "Dagmer has lost the fight at Torrhen's Square-."

"His shield wall broke. I know." Asha said as she took a seat, "What did you expect? This Ser Rodrik knows the land far more than an outsider would. And the ironborn aren't exactly disciplined when it comes to facing off against charging horses. Dagmer still lives, be grateful for that. He's leading back the survivors to Stony Shore."

_She knows more than me._ And the thought galled him once more, "That victory gave Leobald Tallhard to come out from behind his walls and join Ser Rodrik. And I have heard reports that Manderly is sending barges filled with knights, horses and siege engines upriver and that the Umbers are gathering as well. I'll have an _army_ at my gates and you only bring me ten men? How am I supposed to defend my prize with that?"

Asha looked slightly annoyed, "If you haven't yet realised this dear brother, but we are raiding all along the entire west coast. Father commanded us to only take Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's Square. There was _nothing_ said about Winterfell for a reason. Do you think we have the men to spare to defend such a place? Our strength lies in the sea or have you forgotten that during your time among the Greenlanders?"

The tone she used irked him ever more and Theon found himself holding back a snarl, "Winterfell is the heart of the North. We take it, we control the North."

Asha just gave him a look, "We don't _want_ to hold the North. We want to declare our independence and we do that by destroying the fleets of the Greenlanders!" She reined in her voice, "And those greenlanders within a thousand leagues of here now want your head over your little stunt with the Stark boys. Could you not have just taken them as hostages back to Pyke? The North would have capitulated to us." She gave him a look, "_Children_, Theon."

"They defied me!" Theon shouted in her face, "And it doesn't matter anyway. I have laid my brother's ghosts to rest. Two sons' of Eddard Stark to pay for Rodrik and Maron." That was wrong. Jason Mallister had killed Rodrik and Maron had been killed during the attack on Pyke. No-one knew who had slain him.

"Did you bring _our _brothers' ghosts all the way from Pyke brother?" Asha asked, her tone patronizing, "And here I thought they only haunted father."

"When has a maid ever understood a man's need for vengeance?" Even if their father didn't want Winterfell, surely he could see that Theon had avenged his brothers.

Asha snorted in laughter, "And this Ser Rodrik might think of the very same when he comes to take back Winterfell. You are of my mother's and father's blood also Theon, regardless what I think of you, but heed me, return with me to Deepwood. Leave this place, a host marches for Winterfell and if you are captured alive, I am sure you _will_ wish you had been slain."

Theon looked at her. He wanted to open his mouth to tell her to begone from his seat, to tell her that he could hold it by himself. Winterfell was a mighty castle, even with a small garrison, it could throw back many times the number of enemies.

But from the back of his mind, he knew he should leave. Winterfell wanted him dead. How could he claim his rightful crown as King of the Iron Islands if he were dead? His sister was right, their strength lied with the sea and Winterfell was leagues away from there.

His fist balled up, "...Fine." He growled out, unwilling to meet his sister's eyes, for he knew they would have some kind of victorious, mocking look in them, "I shall return with you."

Asha let out a sigh, "I was worried taking this place had made you leave your wits." She said, "And what of this place, are you going to raze it to the ground?"

Theon looked to the window before shaking his head, "No. Let it be." The ghosts were going to haunt him till his dying days. He didn't need anymore and he didn't need to give Robb or the Northerners anymore reasons to gut him like a fish.

Asha shrugged her slender shoulders, "Suit yourself. Go and get your men ready, we leave in the hour."

XxX

Caspian

His uncle's vanguard had arrived shortly after noon. They had set camp on the other side of the Rush. The tents were numerous in the different colours they shown. It was a festival of colour.

Along with those tents, also came the banners of the Reach Lords. From the yellow field of ants of Ambrose, the golden rose on the green field of the Tyrells, the black and white of Blackbar, if one looked at the sea of colours, one would think that Renly had brought every House in the Reach along with him for this little war.

Caspian had also noted some Crownlanders in their midst. He made sure to note their banners and thus their Houses for if they won this battle, he was going to have some choice words for those very same Houses at the end, _Of course, that's if I live and we win this whole war._

But such a thing depended on whether the gods smiled down on him and the winds of victory were blowing in his direction. If not, it was better to just call it a day and just open the city gates and welcome in his uncle with open arms and a smile, maybe bend the knee like he asked off him back in Storm's End.

After looking things over at the wall to make sure everything was in order, Caspian had made his way back to the castle. The battle was not to start for several more hours or a couple more days. The vanguard was probably there to make sure that they had a rendezvous point set up and protected.

He could have sent out a company or two of archers to skirmish with them, but that would have been needless. He needed all the men and arrows for the real battle to come.

The streets were truly empty this time as he made his way back to the Red Keep. Everyone was either in a sept, or if the sept was too full to hold anymore, the inside and outside included, the people prayed at home or septons and septas held impromptu services in open areas.

When he arrived back in the Keep, he had gone straight for his room, telling his servants that he didn't want to be disturbed until it was vitally necessary. He had closed and locked his door behind him and threw himself onto his bed, waiting for sleep to take him.

As he waited, his thoughts drifted towards Robb. His uncle had told him of the news of what occurred at Winterfell and he felt for his friend. They may have been on opposite sides of war, but he still considered the young Stark Lord as a good friend of his. Him and Jon were two people he would trust his back with...of course if they weren't trying to kill each other, but he hoped it wouldn't come to such a thing.

_Bran and Rickon_...Robb loved those two. He would be grieving and he couldn't help but snarl at the thought of the perpetrator. Robb had been kind to Theon, even viewed him like an older brother and this had been his repayment for that kindness? Caspian made a mental note to punch Theon in the face before disembowelling him should they ever meet again.

A knock on his door attracted his attention and Caspian's brow twitched in annoyance. He was rather certain he didn't want to be disturbed until the battle had started.

He reluctantly rose from his bed and made for his door. He unlocked it and opened to see a familiar face on the other side of the oaken door. He quirked an eyebrow, "Sansa," He greeted slowly. Her eyes were red and she had been crying, _I would to if the same happened to Tommen and Myrcella._ Joffrey didn't even entertain the thought, "...I should have found you and offered my condolences." He cursed himself for not having done that.

She smiled, a small smile filled with grief, "You are busy person, I know that. I am sure your mind was filled with more important matters than the thoughts of the sons and younger brothers of a traitor."

That again. Caspian found himself frowning, he placed a hand on her own and pulled him into his room, "There, no-one can hear you." _Especially Varys._ The man knew better that Caspian was not one to have his privacy invaded. Varys wasn't the only person who had knowledge of the secret tunnels of the Red Keep. He might not have known all of them, but he knew enough to know which went where and where the entrances and exits where, "Now stop with the whole traitor talk. They are your brothers."

She nodded and her eyes filled with tears once more. Caspian walked to the side drawer and pulled out a hand kerchief. He passed it to her, "Thank you." She said as she used it to wipe away tears. She had a bitter smile on her lips as she looked at him, "I sometimes wonder if my family is cursed. First father, then Arya, now Bran and Rickon..." She trailed off.

He didn't need to know where her sentence was leading too. He got up from his seat and made to her side, "Robb is currently undefeated in the field and has driven my grandfather all the way back to the Golden Tooth, and Arya is a tough and smart, there has been no reports about her. She may yet be alive."

She gave him a teary eyed look, "You are a friend. You have to say that."

Caspian gave her a look of mock offence, "You are hurting my feelings here, and all I was trying to do was being a good friend."

She rested her head on his shoulder, a soft mile upon her lips, "You are a good friend." She told him, sincerity in her voice but her voice still holding the sadness from the news of her youngest brothers, "My time here would have been far worse if not for you."

"That's for certain." He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was because of the closeness between them or the fact that in several hours at worst or a couple of days at best, he was going to be locked in life or death battle against a numerically superior foe, Caspian found his lips pressed upon Sansa's, _She tastes like lemons._

He licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance into her mouth which she allowed. Their two tongues wrestled with each other within the confines of their mouths, _She's new to this._ He thought to himself as he found Sansa sloppy with her kiss. A hand moved its way to her thigh before pulling up the skirts of her gown. He stopped when he touched the bare, soft flesh of her thigh, _Wait, what am I doing?_ Caspian immediately recoiled and moved away, "I-I'm sorry." He said quickly.

Sansa's face beet red, maybe because of the actions they were about to take or the fact that she had found herself kissing him, Caspian didn't know, "What is it? Did I do something wrong?" She asked, a hand moving to place a lingering finger on her lips, "That was my first kiss."

The prince couldn't help but give her a confused look, "Did you do something wrong?" He repeated, somewhat incredulous before shaking his head, "No, _I'm_ the one who did something wrong. I shouldn't have done that." He was still trying to understand how it happened in the first place, "You are betrothed."

A frown came across Sansa's maiden features, "To your brother."

Caspian blinked before shaking his head slowly, "Exactly. If we carried on, who knows what might have happened." He had been pulling up her skirts and was to go on and continue their activity. The prince was sure that they would have ended up on his bed fucking. Caspian found himself angry. Angry at himself. She was a friend and the sister to a dear friend as well. What he would have done would have been taking advantage of her.

If he wanted to fuck someone, he knew that he could have just gone around the castle and found a servant or haindmaiden, maybe even some noble lady who was interested in fucking the Crown Prince before they all probably died. It wouldn't have taken too long, he knew he had many admirers.

Sansa rose from her chair and made her way to him. She stopped short in front of him and placed a hand on his cheek. Her face was beet red as she talked, a red not as deep as her hair, "I-I know what would have happened."

Caspian just gave her a look, "You knew?"

She nodded, "I-I was hoping you would."

Now he was curious, "Why?"

"Many are saying we are going to die in these walls." She began, "I would at least like to experience it once...and I know that you would be far gentler than Joffrey would be if it came down to taking my maidenhead."

Caspian couldn't really fault her for her train of thought. If Joffrey laid with her, he would not have been gentle. He would have made her suffer just for the sake of making her suffer. He placed a hand her neck and brought her in for a chaste kiss before separating, "Well, I have heard that most noble ladies lose their maidenheads due to horse riding." He mused, Sansa giving him a confused look, "I guess it can't be helped then."

"I don't understand." Sansa said in response to his previous statement.

Caspian had a small smile on his face as he shook his head, "Yeah...I was just rambling. Don't mind me." He pulled her in close, getting her to let out a small yelp of surprise before he brought their lips together once more. The two kissed passionately, their tongues battling with each other, but the advantage always laid with Caspian.

He found himself being amused by the lack of experience Sansa was showing. Had she not been kissed been for by a man? Even just a chaste kiss on the lips? _Well, Sansa is a _lady _she wouldn't have done something like that and thought of it as lady-like. _He mused as he went to work on removing her gown. He made sure that he didn't rip anything lest questions be asked.

_Joffrey doesn't deserve her_. Joffrey didn't deserve any woman _period_. Sansa was far too sweet and kind for a monster like him. If she married him, he would have made her life hell, and even if the North and Riverlands had not risen in rebellion, the Starks care about their family, if they knew how Joffrey treated one of their own...he didn't want to think about it.

Her soft gown and her small clothes hit the Myrish carpet in his chambers with barely a sound and more of a flutter to it. The two separated from their kissing to get a good look at each other and Caspian found his blood stirring inside him. Sansa always had the makings of a beauty, and she would only become even more beautiful as she continued to grow into a woman.

Her skin was beautifully fair and her eyes a vivid blue, unlike his own deep blue. He ran a hand over her skin and found his eyes drifting towards the light patch of hair that hid her sweet spot.

He found himself wanting to take her even more so now than ever before.

He pulled her in and kissed her once more, rolling over to his bed whilst a hand worked to undo the laces of his breeches and another finding her sweet spot and massaging her. She began to moan into their kiss due to his actions.

By the time they were at his bed, Sansa was already wet and Caspian's cock was stiff and ready to be sheathed into Sansa's warmness. He guided himself with ease and placed his cock at the tip of her sex. He gave her one last look, "Are you ready?" He asked, "This might hurt a bit."

Sansa braced herself with a resolved look that was hard to form with the slightly glazed expression that showed in her eyes, "Y-Yes." She was timid. And scared.

Caspian gave her a chaste kiss as he entered her and thrust forward, bypassing the point of resistance with a quick, sharp thrust, taking away Sansa's maidenhood. He felt Sansa open her mouth to release a yelp of pain but his lips were in the way, but he did feel a shiver of pain roll through her body.

He resisted against his primal instincts to pull out and thrust into her as he felt her tight, warm, pleasurable folds wrap around his cock. He just allowed his cock to stay inside her and allowed Sansa to get used to it. Eventually, she began to stir and wiggled a bit underneath him.

He took that as confirmation and began to slowly thrust into her. The look of pain on her face slowly started turning into one of pleasure as he continued to pump into her.

She started moaning quietly as Caspian continued to pump into her, quickening in pace as he found himself unable to hold back. He had never taken the maidenhead of a woman before and thus he had never felt the pleasure or knowing that a woman's cunt was this tight at first.

Caspian had to quickly bring his lips to Sansa's as the volume of Sansa's moans started increasing, that seemed to quiet her down a bit before he pulled away, "You don't want anyone to hear now do you?" He asked with an amused look on his face.

Sansa didn't reply. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist and bit on her lip. Caspian started playing with her firm, blossoming, perky breasts that were bouncing up and down in rhythm with each of his thrusts.

He bit on a soft, pink nipple which caused his partner to let out a yelp of surprise, pain that slowly turned into pleasure.

Caspian could find his release imminent and his eyes immediately opened in alarm, "Sansa," He said in between pants, "Your legs, move them!" He finished hurriedly. He didn't want to release his seed inside her cunt. That would have raised many questions if she got with child.

Sansa did as she was bid without complaint and Caspian was able to pull out and release his seed on her belly. He sighed in relief, "That was close."

Sansa's breasts heaved up and down as she panted for breath. One of her hands ran over her belly and through Caspian's seed. She raised her hand and examined it, feeling the warmness, "This would have been bad if you had released inside me?"

"Pretty much." Caspian admitted as he rolled to the side. He raised a hand and pointed in a direction, "A wash basin is over there. You might find yourself needing it. To clean away the seed and the blood of course."

He felt Sansa nod her head before she cuddled up beside him, "I will do that later. Right now, can we stay like this?"

He frowned before slowly relenting, "As long as you don't fall asleep. You need to go back to your own chambers."

"I know." She raised her head and her eyes met his own, "...That was nice. Can we do this again?"

It had already been a risk doing it once, but he couldn't find it within himself to turn her down, "We will have to be careful."

Sansa kissed him, "We will." She said assuredly, looking and sounding far more confident that she had been over the past year. She then rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, her chest gently rising up and down as she breathed.

"If you say so." Caspian replied as he looked up to the canopy of his bed.

XxX

Sansa

They had been in the sept singing all morning, since the report that the full force of Lord Renly's army had arrived outside the River Gate, on the other side of the Blackwater Rush.

She remembered Septa Mordane telling her that the Mother and Warrior were just two faces of the same great god, but she couldn't help but wonder that if the same god was truly one, who's prayers would the god listen to? The prayers that were being directed towards the Warrior by the men on the walls, or the one asking for the Mother's mercy within the confines of the septs?

Ser Meryn Trant held Joffrey's blood coloured bay for him to mount. Boy and horse alike were dressed in the same colours, crimson red and gold along with a golden lion for the head. The sunlight shined of the armour every time Joffrey moved, _Bright, shining and empty._

The Imp was dressed less extravagantly than the king in simple armour as he was mounted on a red stallion. Sansa couldn't help but think that his armour made him seem like a little boy dressing up in his father's armour. But there was nothing childish about the battle-axe that hung beside his shield. Ser Mandon Moore rode beside him, white steel shining cold and merciless.

When the Imp caught sight of her, he turned his horse in her direction, "Lady Sansa," He called out to her from atop his mount, "Clearly my sister has requested you to join the other ladies in Maegor's Holdfast?"

"She has, my lord but King Joffrey has called for me to see him off. I also mean to visit the sept and pray."

"I won't ask for whom." The little man said, his mouth twisting oddly. If that had been a smile, it was the strangest smile she had ever come to see. This day may change for all, House Lannister and maybe even House Baratheon...more so for House Lannister than anything else. You ought to be safe enough in Maegor's Holdfast unless-."

"_Sansa!_" The boyish shout came from the other side of the yard. Joffrey had come, "Sansa, come here!" He shouted at her, as if she was a dog.

"His Grace seems to have need of you." Tyrion said as he looked at Joffrey, his nephew, "We shall talk once again, if the gods permit it so."

Sansa made her way through a file of crimson cladded spearmen along with other a rank of swordsmen in black and gold, _Caspian is fighting too_. Her heart wrenched at the thought of her lover fighting in the coming battle and possibly dying as well, _It doesn't matter, if he dies, I shall probably die with him as well._

Joffrey beckoned her closer to him, "We shall be in battle soon, everyone says so."

"May the gods have mercy on us."

A sneer came across his pouty lips, "It shall be my uncle who will be needing mercy after I am done with him." Joffrey drew his blade. The pommel was that off a red jewel within the grasp of a lion's jaw. He showed it to her, "My new blade, _Hearteater_."

She remembered him once owning a blade called Lion's Paw once but Arya had taken it from him and threw it into the river. She couldn't help but hope Renly did the same with this blade, "It is beautifully wrought, Your Grace."

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He said as he brought down the blade towards her, "Go on, do it."

Sansa did as she was asked for, knowing that she would kiss any number of blades rather than those fat, pouty lips of hers. The gesture seemed to please him though as he sheathed away his blade with a flourish, "Will you be leading your knights into battle, Your Grace?" She asked as she noted Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn standing besides him. She remembered that another member of the Kingsguard, Ser Arys would be with Caspian.

"Of course he will." A new voice interjected into their conversation. Sansa and the others turned their heads toward the new speaker and noticed Caspian making his way towards them, dressed in chain mail and scale armour underneath a black surcoat with a crowned golden, stag at the front. Beside him was his sworn shield, his Kingsguard knight and his squire, "He is the king after all. It wouldn't look all that good if he didn't lead his men from the front."

Joffrey sneered somewhat at the sight, "Brother." He greeted, seethingly.

Caspian merely waved a hand in his direction, "Joffrey." His eyes then turned to her as he gave a small bow of the head, "Lady Sansa, I would have thought you would be with the other highborn ladies in Maegor's Holdfast by now."

Sansa's legs nearly gave up on her. Her loins ached as she remembered what they had been up to just a few short hours prior. A good ache, "She has, but King Joffrey asked me to see him off."

"Huh, good for him." The prince replied. He then turned his attention towards his brother and gave him a once over. He smiled, "Can you even move in all of that armour?"

Joffrey flared as he rose his head haughtily, "Of course. I am not some weakling like you that can only wear poor armour like chain and scale."

The prince had an easy grin on his face as he replied, "I like to move around when I fight."

"_Wait! Wait!"_ A childish cry rang out throughout the yard. Everyone turned their attention towards the owner and saw that it belonged to Prince Tommen who was barrelling towards them with small, hurried steps. He eventually stopped right in front of Caspian and looked up at his brother with an eager and determined look on his face, "I want to come with you!" The young prince declared.

The queen was soon to make her own appearance, her hands picking up the hems of her skirt, "Tommen! Tommen, you come back here at once!" She cried out.

Tommen seemingly ignored his mother as he wrapped his plump arms around his brother's chest, "Let me come with you, please!" He begged, by then their mother had already joined them.

The queen was panting as she tried to pry her youngest son of his older brother, "A battlefield is no place for a child." Sansa heard the queen say, "Now remove yourself from your brother Tommen. That is not how a prince acts!"

He ignored her once more as he cast expectant eyes on his nearly-white haired brother, "Please, let me come."

Caspian smiled and was able to remove himself from his brother's embrace. He crouched down to get himself at eye level with his brother, "Our lady mother is right Tommen. A battlefield isn't the place for a child." The queen looked relieved at that.

Now he was defiant, "But I can fight! You've been teaching me!"

"That I have." The prince accepted easily enough, "But see, me and Joffrey will be away, so it will be up to you to protect our lady mother and sister. You are the man of the House now."

Sansa watched the expression on the young prince. He seemed like he wanted to continue arguing but he eventually relented. He pouted, "Fine, I will protect mother and sister."

Caspian grinned before he ruffled his brother's hair, "Now that's a good little prince." He pushed him off into the direction of their mother, "Now of you go."

The queen took one of the prince's small hands into her own, "Come along now Tommen, time to go inside." The queen looked at her two oldest children, "Be safe, both of you."

Caspian merely pointed in the direction of his brother Joffrey, "I think he'll need more of your wishes than me mother." Sansa could have sworn she could hear the grinding of Joffrey's teeth at the comment.

"I am a capable warrior thank you very much brother," Joffrey was quick to say in anger, "Far better than you."

Caspian's swornshield, the Dornishman gave the king an amused look, "Funny really, how come I have never seen you participate in any tournaments then, Your Grace?"

A seeping, embarrassed red started forming on Joffrey's face, "B-Because I would simply embarrass all those who were fighting." He didn't sound convincing and it showed on the faces of the ones who had heard his statement.

"Whatever you say brother." Caspian said as he turned and walked past her, towards his own mount, "My lady." He said in passing.

She wanted to reach out and kiss _him _on the lips, but she knew the terms of their liaison. Their relationship could never become public, she would be shamed and so would he, maybe even lose their heads, _Joffrey may very well do that out of spite._

Eventually, the yard was clear of all men that had gone off to the walls to fight the Reach army and Sansa had begun to make her way towards the sept, to pray. For herself, for her family, for victory and for Caspian. She had an inkling that the prince would need all the help he could get.

XxX

Caspian

Caspian watched atop the battlements as a thousand archers filed out of the River gate and assembled themselves on the other side of the Rush. Their job was to skirmish with Renly's man as they tried to cross the Rush among the many rafts and floats that littered the area on the other side of the Rush were Renly's army was camped and prepared for battle.

The rest of the walls were lined with the remaining archers and crossbowmen, just over two thousand strong along with a contingent of some veterans of the gold cloaks and some men-at-arms to help protect them in case ladders were able to make it as far as the walls.

On the other side of the Rush, he could see dozens of catapults being pushed into firing range of the walls. He wanted to laugh, he doubted they had anything that could actually destroy the walls unless they concentrated their catapult fire on one part of the city wall, _A trebuchet would have been more effective._

A battering ram with a wooden cover to protect the soldiers using it from arrow fire and oil was being loaded onto a sturdy looking raft and behind them were thousands of men singing songs and letting out loud cheers, all of them flying various banners of the Reach.

_Fifty thousand men..._ They were outnumbered and most likely out supplied. This battle would be hard fought and even harder won and that victory all depended on a single gambit of his. They wouldn't receive any reinforcements soon enough from anywhere, his grandfather still at the Golden Tooth with more pressing concerns being his own land, _Well, nobody ever said war was easy._

The prince turned to look behind him and saw the four companies of one thousand men each headed by a veteran captain of the gold cloaks, a competent one and a knight of the Stormlands, prepared and readied to sortie out to meet any Reach troops that land on their side of the rush, to stop them from gaining a beachhead.

He was soon met with unpleasant company, "So when do we rally out to meet them?" Joffrey asked as he stopped in front of his brother.

Caspian couldn't help but find that his brother's armour made him look ridiculously. Didn't he know such an armour would just mark him out as someone important...more along the lines of _the_ king and such his death might as well mean victory for them?

"Are you an idiot?" Caspian asked as he looked at his brother, bewildered. His brother's face started turning red in anger, "Why should we go meet them when they are the ones that are going to be coming to us? All we have to do is string them full of arrows and stop them from getting a beachhead. Did you not listen to any of the lessons Ser Barristan told us about warfare? Actually, don't answer that."

His brother seemed like he wanted to say something, probably give him a mouthful but instead, it was his uncle who spoke up, "Dearest nephews," He greeted as he waddled towards them, a menacing axe in his hand and Ser Mandon behind him, "I hope we have all made our peace on this lovely day." He didn't wait for an answer as he quickly looked at Caspian, "Forgive me for asking Caspian, but _I _am rather sure we had more men than this."

"We do?" Joffrey asked in surprise.

The prince could only nod his head in agreement, unfazed, "We do."

His uncle looked up at him with a curious, inquisitive look, "Then where are they? I don't particularly see them anywhere around here."

Caspian only smiled down at his uncle and brought a hand to his lips and made a shushing sound, "It's a secret."

Joffrey looked angry, "I demand you tell me where the rest of my soldiers are! I command it!"

Caspian aptly ignored him when he noticed something from the other side of the Rush. It was several riders, flying the peace banner and at the lead of the rider was the familial green armour of his uncle, "I take it he wants to treat."

"Seems most likely." Tyrion said in agreement from beside the prince, as he looked over the battlements, standing atop a crate to have a good look.

"Treat?" His brother sneered, "I will have no treats with such a traitor. The only treat I will have with him would be his head!"

"Yeah..." Caspian said slowly, "No. Your job is to go stand over there and look all nice and pretty whilst acting all sorts of kingly." He instructed his brother, "Me and Uncle Tyrion will be the ones to see what our other dear uncle wants to treat about."

Caspian had soon set out a party consisting of himself, his uncle, Asher and Edric to meet with his uncle. He rode towards the harbour and stopped at the edge of the Rush, the river remarkably rather quiet on this particular day.

Caspian wasn't particularly surprised when he saw who had come with his uncle for the treating. Ser Courtnay Penrose, the former castellan of Storm's End, Ser Loras, his lover and someone else he couldn't make out due to their armour. But he was rather surprised when he saw a familiar face with the group.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Lady Catelyn, funny seeing you here."

The Lady of Winterfell had a stony expression on her face, "I, unfortunately don't see the humour Prince Caspian."

Well, someone was rather serious, "Sansa is fine if that is what you are worried about Lady Stark." He said and nearly cursed himself for his slight blunder. He didn't need to look at Tyrion to know that he was going to get a talk later about this.

The very least he could have said was that Sansa _and_ Arya were fine, not just one.

"And my other daughter?" Lady Stark asked.

He went to answer but noticed that she was rather calm about the whole thing, "Well, since the cat is out of the bag, Arya sought of, may have escaped during that whole business a while back. I'm sorry, but we haven't been able to locate her since." He could feel Tyrion glaring at him, most likely asking, no, screaming at him with his eyes to shut up, "She's most likely dead." Blunt, but the truth was the truth.

He also wondered whether this was the right time to tell her that he had taken her daughters' maidenhead and has been vigorously fucking her any chance he got? He shook his head, _That's a bad idea. Maybe another time_. When she didn't have any army of fifty thousand men behind her.

She smiled at that, which caught the people on the other side of the rush off aware, "Why is she smiling?" His uncle asked, confused just as he was, "Caspian why is she smiling?"

"I don't know ask her!"

His uncle did as he was asked, "Why are you smiling Lady Stark? I doubt the news about your daughter is anything to smile about."

"Arya is safe." The scion of House Tully said, "That is all you need to know."

"Oh, well that's good news isn't it?" Caspian said before turning to his uncle, "Feeling neglected a bit there uncle? Don't worry, you now have my full undivided attention."

Renly gave him a thin smile, "Caspian, and here I thought you had forgotten all about me."

"I wish I had." Caspian said with a sigh before casting a look behind him as his horse pawed at the ground, "It wouldn't be too much of an ask for you to, you know, just disband your army and go home? Of course you will most likely see the rest of your life being served with honour at the Wall as a brother of the Night's Watch."

Ser Loras snorted from beside Renly, "I believe Lord Stark was offered the same thing. What happened to him exactly I wonder?"

A mixture of emotions rang through Caspian's face at the thought of the late lord of Winterfell. He still had to find out the truth what happened that day, "What happened to Lord Stark was unfortunate. If I had been there at the time, it would not have happened on my watch, but unfortunately it did." He sighed as he ran a hand through his black and white hair. He then gave his uncle a serious look, "This is your only warning uncle, stand down and you may just yet live out the rest of your life."

Renly seemed to hum in thought before answering, "How about...no?" Said Renly, "And instead, I propose you stand down. If you do, my offer from before still stands. I will make you my heir until I had a child with Lady Margaery."

Apart for Ser Arys, everyone on Caspian's side of the Rush burst out in laughter. It was Tyrion who spoke first, "Oh, that was brilliant. You might as well just pass down your crown to Caspian then. I doubt that marriage of yours will result in any kind of heir."

Asher managed to control his sniggers enough to speak, "I have seen Lady Margeary before, but I think you might have mistaken her for Loras there Renly...Margaery has teats and a cunt, not a cock and balls." Ser Loras growled as a hand moved to the hilt of his sword. Caspian's swornshield just gave him an amused look, "What? Everyone knows I speak the truth."

"You heard our answer uncle," Caspian said as he wiped away a tear, "If you want to sit on that damned throne so badly, you have to come and plant your arse on it through us."

Renly looked rather saddened, or maybe he was putting on that front, Caspian didn't know, but didn't particularly care either, "Is there nothing I can do or offer you to actually make you think other wise?" The pretender asked.

"No." Was the blunt reply from Caspian and Tyrion.

Caspian watched as his uncle pulled on the reins of his horse and turned it around, "Very well, I am saddened it would come to this, but it seems I shall have to take the city forcefully then."

"Like I said before uncle," Caspian said as he watched his uncle's party leave, "You are welcome to try."

* * *

**AN: Battle of King's Landing/Battle of the Blackwater Rush begins next chapter. The Battle will probably be the whole chapter and maybe some more things as well. I am also in the midst of debating a major change in plot during the battle. I'm like 50/50 on the whole thing.**

**I have wrote it down and I think I am going to do it! I don't think it has ever been done before to be honest.**

**Anyways, I have been writing another GoT fic in my spare time. Another second son fic, but one of Aerys Targaryen...I am sure you may all think of the implications of such a story. I am debating whether I should post it or not, I'll have made up my mind sometime in the future.**

**Well, that's all folks!**

**TheForeverKing**


	12. Chapter 12

**Shutouts: **

**DraekonGreyCloak: Taking her maidenhead wasn't cruel. She wanted him to have it and he graciously accepted. She thought she wouldn't survive the upcoming battle and the same went for Caspian himself, so why not? And anyway, it isn't like many Westerosi noble ladies have their maidenheads intact by the time of their wedding. **

**Many don't really care about that or ask for proof. It's accepted that highborn ladies lose their maidenheads whilst horse riding rather than cock riding. :L**

**TheLlama123: Stannis the Mannis shall be making his appearance very soon my friend. Just you wait. Next chapter actually, or someone related to Stannis anyway.**

**FleeingReality: Thanks mate, but just so you know, Sansa isn't the final pairing. Hell, Caspian himself doesn't view himself getting married to anyone and you will soon learn why when everything is over and done with.**

**VivaLaMaximo: The Mannis will soon appear my friend.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice &amp; Fire_

* * *

Caspian

It had been only several moments after Caspian's party had entered through the River Gate did the oddly, rhythmic pounding of heavy boulders battering against King's Landing walls could be heard. Renly's catapults were the perpetrators as they flung boulder after boulder at the city walls in a bid to break them down, but each boulder could do nothing against the city walls but just hit the wall and drop to the ground on impact.

Some of the boulders hit the wall with enough force to unsettle the archers and defenders on the battlements and he had even seen a misfired shot from a catapult smash through several of the skirmishers he had sent forth from the wall.

He could only help but wince ever so slightly when he saw the aftermaths of that incident. Some of the archers bodies were bent in unnatural positions, blood oozing from every office it could find to escape and others were nothing more than a smear paste of blood and bone on the ground and boulder itself.

The prince himself was off two minds to the whole situation. On one hand, he didn't mind his uncle flinging as many giant rocks at them as he wanted. The city walls could take it and with the trebuchets themselves, they could also give back what little his uncle took from him.

But that also brought the problem that if his uncle did decide to do nothing more than batter his walls with giant rocks, this would turn from being a battle to a siege and his uncle could very well outlast them in a siege.

Renly was not the one with the 500,000 or so starving inhabitants inside his walls. He had to deal with a measly 50,000 compared to his own numbers.

"My prince," A runner dressed in the gold cloak of the city watch came up to him. Caspian could tell that this was one of the many recruits that had been conscripted into the City Watch. He didn't have the look of a soldier about him, that and the fact he looked as if he had yet to reach his eight-and-tenth name-day, "The trebuchets are ready to fire."

The prince nodded as he idly leaned on the battlements. The occasional shaking of the walls from the pounding doing nothing to unease him. He could tell that the young conscript seemed to be amazed at how at ease he was feeling about all this, "That's good." Caspian said as he glanced over in the direction of the attackers. He could see that his uncle was beginning to move his first wave of attackers and his archers were stringing their longbows, ready to flood them down with arrows, "They can fire away, but only using the boulders. The fire pots are for later."

The runner nodded his head in confirmation of the order, "My lord." He was quick to say before turning away and running off towards where the three trebuchets were located.

He saw the small stature of his uncle waddle towards him, accompanied by the giant frame of Ser Mandon a little ways behind him. Tyrion came to a stop in front of him and gave him a well-meant crooked smile, "Well look at you," He heard his uncle say over the shouting and poundings of boulders, "Aren't you just a sea of calm in this entire madness?"

Caspian had an even smile on his face as he looked down at his uncle fondly. He gave him a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, "Grandfather did always say that panicking in battle would cause more trouble that solve. And anyway, I think I have finally got control over my nerves enough to not start running around like a headless chicken."

His uncle made his way towards a barlon and stood on a crater to look over the battlements and into the opposing army, "Like a headless chicken eh? That would truly be a sight to see." Caspian watched as his uncle ducked when a boulder was launched in their direction but only for it to reach its apex, begin its descent before smashing into the wall some way down from where they stood. Tyrion rose again with an uncomfortable look on his face, "If I do ever meet the genius who decided to build such strong, high walls, I think I a going to give them a big, fat, sloppy kiss."

Caspian allowed himself to snigger at the thought, "Then you will probably have to get in line. I think I would be rather confident in saying you won't be the only one here today with those very same thoughts."

Caspian's attention was attracted to the riverfront where he saw his archers loose of arrows onto the opposite bank. His face hardened when he saw that the first wave of soldiers was soon going to be upon them.

His uncle's first wave of soldiers seemed to be mostly compromised of levies lead by sizeable contingent of heavily armoured and armed knights and the occasional company of men-at-arms. The arrows scored many a kills on the less heavily armoured levies and the occasional knight and men-at-arms.

The ones that had been equipped with a shield were quick to bring them up high and above to protect themselves from the arrows as they made their way towards the rafts, whilst the ones that weren't so lucky enough to have been given such a thing were quick to grab any protection they could from their fallen comrades.

"Looks like the real battle is about to begin." Caspian finally said when he saw the first raft enter the waters filled with a mixed contingent of levies, men-at-arms and knights and soon afterwards, that one was also followed by another raft to make the crossing, and another, and another, and another until more than several dozen rafts carrying at least a couple of dozen or so soldiers were paddling their way across the rush. At that moment, one of the trebuchets fired off its first round and Caspian couldn't help but be satisfied when the boulder smashed straight into one of the rafts, crushing men and sending the rest into the waters of the rush. No doubt the more heavily armoured knights, men-at-arms and occasional levy finding themselves dying a watery death.

"That was satisfying to see." He heard his uncle admit. Clearly he had seen the same sight as he had seen. He noticed his uncle look around, "Where is your dear brother and sworn shield?"

Caspian was quick to reply, "Asher is serving as one of the captains of the companies that will sorting out to meet Renly's man and Joff..." He said slowly as he panned his head around before noticing his brother's distinct blonde hair, helmet at his side standing on a small crate to elevate himself above the rest. Beside him, on either side of his place of standing stood Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn, looking as knightly as they could in the famous white armour of their order, "Is right over there. Standing on that crate like the good little king I might have asked or forced him to do."

Tyrion turned his head to look at the boy king. He was quick to grasp as to the meaning of him standing on the crater, "Making him stand out to the men are you?"

"That's about the only use my brother has." Caspian replied, the shadows of boulders being flung by the trebuchets dancing over him, "The men will fight more fiercely if they see their king standing with them. They would fight even better if fought along _with_ them, but that would more than likely result in his death more than anything else."

His uncle allowed himself to chuckle, "I take it he wasn't pleased with that?"

"Look at his face," Caspian began, motioning at him with a rude gesture of the hand, "Does he look at all pleased about being paraded around like some fancy whore?"

"I guess not."

Caspian took a look back to the river and noticed the first of the rafts was nearing the bank. He quickly pushed himself off the battlements and made his way to the other side of the walls and looked down at where the gate was located, and thus, where the first of the sortie companies stood, grim and ready.

"Ser Guyard!" He yelled down to the knight who was in command of the company. The knight looked up to his liege lord and prince, "You have my permission to go and give our Reach friends a welcoming party!"

The knight gave a nod of his head and placed upon his head his helmet. He rallied his men and the gates of the River Gate quickly swung open with a mighty groan. Caspian watched as Ser Guyard led the charge of his company of a thousand men.

Caspian had made sure that each company that went to rally out to meet his uncle's forces was composed of an even amount of experienced and disciplined soldiers, along with those who had been conscripted into the force. Of course, due to the large conscription in the City Watch, it had meant that their was more unexperienced and undisciplined soldiers than experienced and disciplined, but this had been solved by him bringing his own men from the Stormlands, but they were still an uneven mix about them.

His hoping was that with the more experience men fighting along side them, the unexperienced and undisciplined men will break less easily and that they would become bloodied in the presence of the more experienced soldiers who knew what they were doing.

_We really need a standing army._ Caspian thought, _This whole levies thing is starting to look ridiculous._ Once again, he decided to leave that thought for another day. Another day if he is still alive of course.

His uncle's forces didn't know what hit them as they took their first steps on the solid ground. They were wet and haggard from the thoroughly uncomfortable journey across the waters of the Rush and the continuous harassment by Caspian's skirmishers and archers along with some of the rafts of his uncle's being torn apart by the waters of the Rush meant that the first wave had lost a considerable number of soldiers long before they had even reached land.

Compared to the fresh and somewhat slightly eager men that had come to meet them, his uncle's forces looked like they had seen better days. Swords, spears, shields, maces, morningstars and other weaponry clashed against each other as the melee began.

The sound of steel could seemingly be heard above all the noise the rush was making as steel clashed against steel and sparks flew from the occasional clash.

From behind the sortie lines, his archers equipped with their longbows continued to harass his uncles forces that were still making their way across the Rush or the forces themselves that were still on the opposite bank and had yet to cross over.

Caspian had even noted of the dozen or so catapults his uncle had brought with him, four of them were now nothing more than junks of crushed wood. It seemed his three trebuchets had been able to land some rather prized kills. Now all they had to do was destroy the other catapults and he would be able to have one less worry to worry about.

A warhorn blew from his uncle's side of the Rush and another wave of soldiers stepped forward making their way towards the bank. Caspian saw them march up in a calm fashion and didn't know whether to grimace or jump in joy.

He wanted to grimace because this new wave was clearly larger in number than the first and jump in joy because it spotted more knights and men-at-arms. He knew he didn't have to worry about many of them as they would most likely fall to the preys and whims of the Rush itself when it came to crossing it, _And the occasional trebuchet._ He mused when he saw a boulder crash into the second waves line and roll over quite the number of soldiers, _Still not enough._

He quickly signalled for one of the gold cloaks to go to the Three Whores and order one of them to start firing the fire pots and add more elevation to it. He planned to burn his uncle's forces out from within their rallying point of the forest if he could.

Caspian was quick to note that the last of the first wave had either been slain or was trying to make a quick retreat back to their own side. Guyard was already rallying his men to return to the River Gate and rest. He turned on his heel to face his uncle, "You have the command here uncle."

Tyrion blinked in bewilderment before looking up at him, "What will you be doing?"

Caspian walked past him as he grabbed his helmet, "Going to make sure that my family keeps their heads upon their necks." He ran down the stairs towards the next sortie company that stood at the ready for their own turn to go and meet the invaders, "Lancel!" He shouted at his first cousin who was also one of the captains of a company himself, having agreed to give him a company of his own.

Lancel stood at attention ramrod straight when he heard his name being called out, "My prince?"

"Get your men ready," Caspian said as he placed his helmet onto his head, "We are sortieing out."

Lancel looked nervous. Caspian could see it, but his kinsman nodded nonetheless, "Very well." He turned quickly and made for his own men.

Caspian continued walking before coming to a stop in front of Asher. His sworn sword looked up at him in amusement, "Two companies? Thing's are that dire already?"

"Not really." The prince replied with a shake of the head, "I don't think a single company would have been able to handle the number of men now coming at us."

Asher rose gingerly from his seat, "Alright then," He looked back at his own men and called them forth, "You heard the prince, let's go gut ourselves some Reachmen." The man cheered as they made their way towards the gate, maybe at an attempt to gain some last minute courage or another thing was of no consequence to Caspian.

All he cared about at the moment was if they could fight.

"_Caspian!_"

Despite the volume and cheers of the odd two thousand men waiting for the first sortie party to return, Caspian was still able to hear the boyish shout of his brother.

He turned his head and saw Joffrey coming at him, his eyes lively and all smiles. His armour shining gold and red, holding his lion helm at his hip as he stride towards him. As always, behind him came Ser Meryn and Ser Osmund, "Joff," He greeted slowly, trying to hide the annoyance he felt at his brother, "What are you doing? I gave you an important job." How difficult was it to just stand on a crate and look important. It shouldn't have been that hard.

His brother allowed himself to scoff derisively, "Don't think I know what you are planning?"

Now Caspian was puzzled, "What are you talking about Joff? What exactly am I planning?" He heard a plan and had been indeed planning something, but he would be damned if someone like Joffrey had been able to figure it out.

"Whilst I stand over there on that crate like some sort of decorated whore," His brother was quick to say, traces of anger in his voice, no doubt from being treat as such, "You plan to steal all the glory from this battle."

"There _is_ no glory in battle, brother." Caspian said. It was the truth. There was nothing about battle or war in general that brought forth any sort of glory. He never understood where that thinking ever came from. He had learned that lesson early on. So you killed someone famous or someone with a lick of renown, it didn't matter in the long run. All you would have done was paint a big and large target onto your own back for the next person in search of renown and glory.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" The king said, a sneer forming on those pouty lips of his, "No matter, I won't allow you take this away from me. I shall be leading the next sortie and I will show you how this battle is truly won."

Caspian could only give him a look before he laughed. Not a chuckle, but a good honest laugh that threatened to stop him breathing.

His brother's face started turning red with anger, "What are you laughing about?"

Caspian was able to control himself some before replying, "You." He answered to the question, "I am laughing at you. No offence brother, you might tell yourself that you are our father's son. That you are some great warrior or somewhere along them lines, but you aren't." He lifted up his visor and gave his brother a thin smile, "_I _am our father's son." He stressed, "Not you. Me. For crying out loud, a girl of eleven years was able to disarm you back at the ruby ford. Don't think I forgot about that. If Arya could do that, what do you think fully grown men wanting to kill you would do?"

He turned and began to walk away, "For our mother's sake Joff, just go back to that crate, stand there and look kingly. No-one will accuse you of being a craven if you do." He gave him a wave, "And anyway, it's common knowledge that I am the one in charge of this little theater here. So as long as you are concerned, for the duration of this battle, I _am_ the king and you are the prince. Ser Meryn, Ser Osmund, please return my brother to his royal crate."

He could hear the cries of, "Yes, Your Grace." From the two kingsguard knights as he walked away.

Caspian couldn't help but think that his brother would be fuming at the knowledge that his kingsguard took orders from him, instead of himself. He could swear he was already hearing his brother curse and rant to them about how he could make his own way back.

XxX

Sansa

The torches shimmered brightly within their hammered sconces within the Queen's Ballroom, giving a silvery light. Still though, there was still darkness within the walls, Sansa could see it within those pale eyes of Ser Ilyn as he clutched that greatsword of his.

At least their was a certain relief to it that it wasn't her father's sword that the mute man held anymore. The Imp had seen fit to send her father's sword, and in effect, her House's sword back to her brother. Caspian had explained it to her as a way for his uncle do his best in staving off a Northern and Riverlander attack on King's Landing when they already had to deal with the threat of Renly and the Reachmen.

She wondered how her brother would feel holding the sword that had been responsible in taking their father's head. It was folly to think such a thing, as one couldn't blame the sword for who it was wielded by.

Occasionally, one of the Kettleblack brothers, Osney if she recalled his name correctly would occasionally appear and give tidings of how the battle was being fought outside on the walls. Sansa could think that it might have been going in their favour, the sun had already set a few hours ago and yet they were still alive, breathing and the women unraped.

Sansa had been finishing off her broth when Osney had arrived for the firs time. She had seen him talk to his brother Osfryd before making his way towards the dais were she and the queen along with other high ladies of reputable birth were sat.

Osney Kettleblack smelled of horse and blood, four long thin scratches on his cheek that was already scabbing. Despite him whispering, Sansa couldn't help but overhear what they were talking about, "The battle is still very much raging on Y'Grace. Prince Caspian has been able to throw back Lord Renly's attacks since midday. The river front and the Rush is filled with more Reach dead than gold cloaks or Stormlanders. The prince has had to lead out some sorties personally to retake a Reach mustering point. It's still too early to tell, but the battle seems to be in our favour, Y'Grace."

The queen nodded as she drank from her goblet, "And the king?"

A queer expression came across the Kettleblack's face, "Well, the king has been walking up and down the wall giving encouragement to the men by his brother's command."

The queen quirked an delicate eyebrow in surprise, "By Caspian's command?"

Osney gave a nod of his head, "Aye, Y'Grace. The men listen more to the prince than the king. They respect him more and listen to his commands."

Sansa glanced at the queen and saw that an unusual expression had come across the queen's beautiful features. Even with the amount of drink she had been having, it only served to make the queen look even more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and her eyes had a bright, feverish gleam to them as she looked down the hall.

The ballroom was filled with the sounds of laughter and music, but Sansa could tell that the laughter and music was all nothing more than a simple farce. Ser Dontos chased some young women around on his wooden horse, making them laugh, but even their laughs sounded fake.

_Everyone is here in body,_ Sansa thought as she took a drink from her own goblet, _But their minds are on the walls._ She saw the young bride of one of Ser Lancel's knights start crying uncontrollably. The queen had her sent to bed with a cup of dreamwine.

"Tears," She had the queen say with scorn in her voice, "My mother used to tell me that tears were a woman's weapon. And the sword a man's. That tells us everything we need to know about the world doesn't it?"

Sansa didn't know whether the queen was speaking to her or not, but she decided to answer the question either way, "Men must be very brave though, Your Grace," She began, "To face all kinds of weapons in the midst of battle with the shadow of the Stranger hanging over them."

"Jaime once told me that he feels only truly alive when he is in the midst of battle or in bed." The queen brought another goblet of wine to her lips. She had yet to touch the food that had been placed in front of her, "I would rather be in the midst of battle than be here, pretending everything is merry and playing host to this frightened flock of little hens."

"You asked them here, Your Grace." Sansa pointed out.

A sneer came across the queen's lips. But even with such a distasteful expression, it seemingly did nothing to her beauty, "Certain things are expected of you when you are queen. Try to remember that when Joffrey weds you. Best learn now girl." She said. She studied the various women in the hall with an appraising look about her, "Of the hens themselves, they mean nothing to me, but some of the cocks may very well survive the battle if we win. So it behoves me to give these women my protection should we somehow win. They would return to their cocks with tales of how I was ever brave, offering them my protection and all."

"And if the castle should fall?"

The queen gave her a look, "You would like that wouldn't you?" She didn't wait for a denial, "If I'm not sold out by my own guards, then we would probably hold out until Renly and his lover-boy come to the walls themselves. By then, I shall surrender the castle myself."

"And if he doesn't?" Sansa didn't know why she asked. Some part of her told her that she already knew the answer to that question.

"Then we are all in a bit of rape." The queen told her bluntly, "Of course, we shouldn't rule out the torture, the murder, mutilation and torture of course. Can't forget things like those. People are rather fond of such things at times like this."

Sansa was horrified. Why, she didn't know. The answer had already been screaming to her face for a while now, "But why? There are only women here, unarmed and gently born."

"Their births protect them." Cersei admitted, "Though not as much as you would think. Each one is worth a good ransom, but after the madness of battle, men seem more interested in warmth of flesh rather than the cold of gold. Then again, a golden shield is better than none. Out in the streets, the women won't be treated nowhere near as tenderly, even our dear servants. Pretty things like that serving wench of Lady Tanda would be in for a lively night, and any other woman too, whether she be old, infirm or a pig. Enough drink would make a washerwoman look like nearly as comely as you, sweetling."

"_Me?_"

"Can you sound anymore like a mouse, sweetling?" The queen took a sip of her wine, "You are a woman now remember? Betrothed to my firstborn as well. Men will scramble to get their hands on you, not as much as me, but you take what you can get in life." She took another sip from her goblet, this time drinking a bit longer and deeper, "Were it anyone else outside the gates, I would most likely be able to beguile them. But this is Renly Baratheon, I fail to see how that oaf of Highgarden thought marrying his darling daughter to him would result in any kind of heir for him that would sit on a throne." She noticed the look on Sansa's face, "Have I shocked you, sweetling? Another word of advice from me to you. Tears _aren't_ the only weapons women have. They also have another one, the one between their legs. Men seem to like swinging their swords around, both of them."

Sansa didn't know what to say. How could she respond to that? Her only experience with any man was Caspian and he was gentle with her. The thought of being a plaything for soldiers to use filled her with dread. She prayed quietly that the walls wouldn't fall. She didn't want that fate, to be dishonoured like that.

She had heard the tale of Lady Ashara Dayne. There were no cliffs to throw herself off, but there did seem to be a large number of towers.

Not long afterwards, the two Kettleblacks returned to the hall. Sansa recalled that the three Kettleblack brothers had become favourites among the denizens of the castle. They got along well with everyone, from the huntsmen, grooms to the knights and lords and ladies. And they got along the best with the serving wenches it was said.

As of late, Ser Osmund had taken the Hound's place beside Joffrey. It was said that he was just as skilled as the Hound with a sword, only younger and faster. If that was true, she had wondered why she had never heard of any of these Kettleblacks before.

She had asked Caspian and he had laughed. She never learned what he found ever so amusing at her question.

The Kettleblacks had reported once again the progress of the battle. It seemed the walls were still being held and at the forefront of the defensive effort was Caspian. They talked more of him than Joffrey who was still walking the walls giving encouragement to the crossbowmen and archers among the battlements.

It became more and more likely that the survival of King's Landing were placed on the shoulders of Caspian rather than his brother the king. And by the whispers that started to go through the room, the other highborn ladies and guests knew it as well.

Some had even become clasping their hands together to pray for Caspian. She could tell they prayed for him by the way their lips moved ever so slightly in silent prayer.

She did the same.

XxX

Caspian

The feel of rushing wind passed his head as he ducked underneath a swing from an axe before Caspian drived his sword into the belly of his attacker. The man let out a groan of pain that doubled as a death rattle before falling to his knees when Caspian wrenched his black blade out from its previous place.

The prince pushed the man over to the side as he went forward once more and cut a bloody swathe through several spear levies that had come at him. He was glad that he had worn a black surcoat. If it had been any other lighter colour, it would have shown just how much blood he was covered in from head to tore.

The sun had already set and the moon was already making its way across the sky. The silver moonlight gave little in terms of light, but it did enough for him to notice that the Rush was filled with rafts going back and forth, bringing more men with each trip it made to the other bank and in other words more reinforcements.

The only consolation Caspian could think of such a thing was that the blood that ran through into the Rush was mostly that of Reachmen. His archers were doing a number on any that began to make their way across.

He could also see fires happening on the other side of the Rush, the catapults having been long since silenced courtesy of those very same fires caused by fire-pots launched from the trebuchets that were now indiscriminately firing. It didn't matter if they aimed or not. By the sheer density the Reachmen were crowded on the opposite bank, a fire pot or boulder was bound to hit something and set it aflame or crunch any unlucky fucker underneath a boulders course of landing.

He noticed a group of a dozen men or so wave the golden rose of House Tyrell near the bank, _A rallying point_. Caspian didn't like that thought. Not one bit, "_Asher! Guyard! Lancel!"_ He called out to the nearest groups of men. Amidst the sound of battle, they were able to hear his voice, he pointed towards the waving banner and they got the gist of the situation.

Each called some men to them and they all charged the rallying point which now numbered a few dozen. They noticed them coming and the first to come and try to meet them was a spear men in green and gold.

The spearman tried to run through Caspian with his spear. The prince merely batted the weapon away to the side as he ran before bringing his sword in a swing to remove his head.

He had been fighting for so long now with as little as an hours rest at best that his muscles ached with fatigue every time he swung his sword, but he would not go down yet. He was going to be the last man standing if he had any say in it.

Another spearman tried the same and Caspian responded in kind by moving away from his stab before sinking _Stormbringer_ into his shoulder. He had to put effort to cut through the bone and when he couldn't, to cut through the boiled leather and give the man a killing blow.

From beside him, he saw Ser Guyard bash a swordman in the head with his shield emblazoned with his family's sigil in a crunching blow that caved in the head before swinging his own sword at the abdomen of another, allowing his entrails to fall to the ground. The man wailed as he dropped to the ground and tried to place them back into their rightful place.

He didn't see the finishing blow coming from Ser Guyard.

Asher was quick like a viper as he danced through several spearmen and swordsmen alike, bringing killing blows with each swing of his short sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other. It only needed to be a knick to be a killing blow. Like the Red Viper of Dorne himself, Asher had a penchant for putting poisons on his blades.

He saw one unlucky spearman, a boy no older than seven-and-ten at best get a nick on the cheek from his dagger. He turned to try and stab Asher in the back only to stagger before he fell to the ground, froth forming at his mouth and his face paling.

Much to his surprise, it seemed as if his uncle's cousin Lancel had some modicum of skill with a blade in hand as he had been able to survive the day's battle and was still fighting, although unlike the company he was with, he had yet to take down a significant amount of enemies in a short amount of time.

Yet he was able and diligent enough to take down a couple of men with his sword that glistened in the moonlight with blood and brains. His previously shining Lannister crimson and gold armour now more crimson in colour than gold.

All around him, the men his knights and sworn shields had rallied were fighting in life and death battle in the fearsome melee.

They had originally had four companies of a thousand men meant to meet Renly's forces as they landed on their side of the rush. Out of those four companies and four thousand men, they had lost nearly half their number and four had been reduced to two and a bit companies, including the thousand strong reserves.

And yet Renly kept coming. His soldiers kept coming, becoming more emboldened every time they saw fewer and fewer men sortie out to meet them on the banks, even as they were strewn with arrows, bolts, boulders and cooked alive in their armour with fire pots.

Caspian finally reached the banner of the golden rose that was being waved about. The man waving it tried to draw out his sword and cut him down but found himself being impaled through the head by a spear the prince had quilfered from one of his opponents on his way.

He went to pick up the banner as the man dropped to the ground unmoving with the shaft of the spear embedded in his hands, only for a flash of steel to strike at his hand. A thousand thoughts weren't through Caspian's mind, the most prevalent being how ironic this entire situation was.

If the Viper learned of this, he would certainly laugh and say Caspian had it coming to him.

The knight who had struck at him found himself stabbed through the neck, the glimmer of a short sword being seen before it was pulled out, "Caspian!" Edric cried out as he moved to his side. He looked at his arm fraught with worry in his eyes, "Are you alright?"

Caspian looked at his hand and noticed that his chainmail had taken the brunt of the blow, but it still stung, meaning his hand had still been kissed by steel, "No worse for wear." If the knight had put anymore strength into his blow, Caspian knew he would be able to feel, let alone move his hands about as he was doing now. He picked up the banner and flung it into the waters, a round of cheers went through the area from his own soldiers.

He looked around. This wasn't the time for cheers, several other Reach banners were already being set up and he didn't have the men nor the energy to assault them and destroy them. It was time to pull out one of his two tricks, "_Fall back to the gate!_" He yelled out his orders.

The captains and officers began relaying the order as they fought a fighting retreating. Some men completely disengaged from their opponents and ran back towards the gate whilst others, the more professional ones retreated in a calm and orderly man, acting as a rear guard.

Caspian was one of the last to go through the River Gate that slammed shut behind him, the old hinges of the gate whining and snapping as it was done so. He ran towards the battlements, running up the stairs two at a time.

His muscles screamed at him in fury to sit down and rest. Although his muscles burned and were beginning to feel like lead to him, Caspian would not rest. He soon found his uncle on the wall directing the crossbowmen and archers. Joffrey stood beside him watching attentively at the battle happening below.

"_Uncle!" _Caspian called out to him. His uncle turned to face him with a slight jump, "Give the order for _Rob's Hammer, Lady Lyanna _and _Lionstar_ to come and introduce themselves to our Reach friends."

Tyrion blinked before he nodded as he quickly waddled away, Ser Mandon behind him once again.

Caspian took that chance to slump against the battlements and take a rest. He cast a dirty look at his brother, "If we survive this, I am so going to slap you silly. So silly that pretty little face of yours is nothing more than a big, black bruise."

That seemed to take Joffrey by surprise judging by his reaction, "What? Why?"

Caspian felt himself the beginning of a snarl come onto his face. He never snarled, but Caspian couldn't find it in himself to stop. Once again, he found himself blaming his brother for this entire ordeal, "This entire war is your fucking fault that's why!" He half-shouted, "If you weren't such a cruel, entitled, craven, little shit who does nothing but hide behind mother's skirts, we would still be living in a time of peace." He winced when he felt his arm flare in pain. He glanced down at it, "Be fucking useful for once in your entire measly little life and go and get me a maester or bandages at the very least."

Joffrey's face turned red with anger or maybe it was embarrassment. Caspian found himself neither carrying, "You can't talk to me like that! I am the king!"

Caspian could only roll his eyes, "Any man who says he is the king is no true king at all." He waved him off with a gesture of the hand, "What are you still doing here? Didn't I tell you to go get me some bandages or a maester? You are capable of doing simple tasks like that aren't you?"

His brother's face was bristling with anger and he seemed to want to move and do something, but a hand to his shoulder from Ser Osmund stopped him from doing anything. Caspian watched as he violently shrugged of the hand and stomped away like a petulant child.

Ser Osmund glanced at him as he made to follow after him, "The king won't forget that, M'Prince."

"You think too highly of my brother." Caspian coolly replied as slowly peeled off the chainmail sleeve on his arm to take a look at his wound, "By this time tomorrow, he would have forgotten any events that might be taking place today." He winced slightly when he noticed the cut on his hand. If that had been any deeper, it might have cut through a rather important vein and he would have found himself bleeding out, "We'll most likely be dead either way anyway." He finished off callously.

The kingsguard knight only gave him a surprised look before giving him a firm nod as he went on his way.

Caspian ripped a piece of cloth from his under shirt that was relatively clean and wrapped it around the cut before standing up. The loyalist side of the Rush had been completely lost. Everywhere he looked along the bank of the river was filled with Reachmen who were clambering out of their makeshift rafts.

By now, most the rafts remaining were the sturdiest ones that had survived multiple crossings and the weak ones had been destroyed and washed away by the Rush, although their was the occasional one that would topple and spill its contents into the waiting waters below any the other occasional collision between rafts that would sent armoured men to their watery graves within the waters. It was too late to carry out any sort of sortie and even with his remaining forces, they wouldn't be able to retake the river banks.

A power warhorn attracted his attention to the Blackwater Bay and noticed three war galley's make their way towards the Rush. He allowed himself to smile, this was one of his two tricks he had up his sleeve and this trick would serve as the signal for the other trick to begin.

He hoped that this trick would surprise his uncle. It had taken sometime to think off and even more time to get the necessary materials ready to make sure that it gave the most amount of damage to the Reachmen.

They had killed thousands by now and he hoped this plan of his would kill even more thousands. As the ships entered the Blackwater Rush. The ship were immediately taken in by the fast-flowing waters of the Rush and he could see men begin to abandoned ship and jump into the waters of the Rush itself, allowing the ship to be carried by their original momentum and the flow of water and the wind by the looks of the open sails.

It seemed as if the wind was favourable towards them for his next gambit.

His smile became a wide, toothy, feral grin when he saw the dozens upon dozens of rafts in the Rush started waddling quickly in one direction of the bank as they tried to move out of the way of the incoming ships.

"_Cease fire!"_ Caspian bellowed to the archers and crossbowmen. The order was repeated along the lines and the arrows and bolts were stopped from being loosened, much to the surprise and confusion of both the defenders and the attackers, _Now sit back and watch the show._

He calmly walked towards an archer and requested his bow and arrow as the ship continued to bulldoze their way through the rafts upon the waters. He took an arrow and lit it up. He trained his arrow behind the waters of one of the galleys, where a green liquid was being released into the waters behind, giving the Rush an eerily green glow in the moonlight, _A glow foretelling their doom._

He tried to pull back the string of the bow, but his new injury nagged at him and he cursed. He would have liked to do the honour himself but instead he passed it off back to the archer, "When the galley's are right in front of the River Gate, let loose." He told the archer who nodded his head.

"Yes, m'lord."

Caspian gave him a confident shake of the shoulder, "Good man." He then caught something odd...coming from their side of the Rush. He looked down from the battlements and he could have cried, _What is that idiot doing!?_ He wanted to scream and rant.

The prince quickly scampered away from the battlements and down the stairs, nearly falling down as he did so. He ran towards the gate and saw men being led out, "What the hell are you doing?" He shouted at them.

The men looked confused as they looked at each other, "The king ordered us to sortie out, m'lord." One of them said, his face haggard and bloody. Fatigue showed in his eyes and how he carried his weapon.

"The king doesn't give orders here!" Caspian yelled, "I do! Get back inside the walls!" He ran past the soldiers that were filling back into the gate at his order. When he finally exited through the River Gate, he noticed that a good number of maybe five hundred or so men were already charging towards one of the nearest mustering points, at their head, Joffrey, on a mount his sword raised high and pointed in the direction of the Reachmen.

Caspian once again, wanted to cry. Joffrey was a craven bastard. He wanted to ask the gods were this bout of bravery and courage had suddenly appeared from. His voice hoarse from all the shouting and yelling he had done for the day, he rallied a good several hundred men on him. He drew _Stormbring_ and pointed at his brother, "To the king! The man who drags my idiot brother back through those gates gets a fucking lordship!" That seemed to be enough to make the man charge towards the melee that was happening.

Fear gripped Caspian's heart when he saw his brother's horse brought down by an arrow or two, and it seemed as if the Reachmen had realised who he was as they had gone to meet Joffrey and his company in battle.

Relief came through his face when he saw a glimpse of his brother's frame stand up, the billowing white cloaks of his kingsguard beside him, _Seven hells, just keep that idiot alive until I get there._ A lit arrow caught his attention from the corner of his eye and his eyes widened in fear, _No..., _"_GET DOWN!_" Caspian didn't think he could have shouted any louder if he had tried as he dove straight to the ground.

What followed next was the most deafening sound he had ever heard in his life. It sounded as if a thousand thunders had boomed at once in the heavens and he swore he could feel the earth shake when the explosion happened.

Even by the time it was all over and he gingerly got to his feet, he could feel his ears ringing. He looked in front of him and back and noticed that some men were rising from the ground, but other were not.

King's Landing walls and the River Gate itself seemed to be riddled with holes of varying sizes.

He slowly turned his attention back to the front of himself, and swore. The Rush was on fire. The waters were backed in a luminous, green iridescent flame and the roar of the fire could do nothing to hide the screams of men in pain as they were burned alive. The unlucky ones that had found themselves not to be killed by the initial explosion and were left to the tender mercies of being cooked alive instead.

He held his sword limply in his hand as he stumbled in the direction that he had last seen his brother in. As he got closer to the burning river, he could feel the heat the green flames gave off prick his skin. By now, the men that had been following him couldn't handle the heat.

Maybe it was because he had still to regain his wits about him, but he found the heat somewhat, oddly soothing.

He neared the first of the bodies that had been near the explosion. They were all riddled with holes of varying sizes. He had even come across a grizzly sight of one men missing half his head, _I have done worse this day._ He thought as he recalled shaving half a man's head off with a swing of his sword in his first sortie.

His leg hit a helmet and he looked down and grimaced. The helmet had melted ever so slightly, but he could recognise the golden lion design. He bent down and picked it up before looking around.

He could see that some men were still alive as he could see movement but he was sure none of them would live for much longer. The heat was stifling and they would more than likely die of heatstroke.

He went to open his mouth to order his own men to help carry their wounded but found the heated air burn his throat and lungs. He coughed several times before making his way back. He cast one last look in the direction of the burning Blackwater Rush and had one last thought as he made his way back to the River Gate.

"Joffrey, you fucking idiot." Honestly, Caspian couldn't find himself surprised. Joffrey did seem like the kind of person who would go on to die young, "Mother isn't going to be happy about this."

* * *

**AN: Hot damn, I think this battle scene is miles better than my first one. What do you guys think? You think so too don't you? I know you do.**

**I have to say, are some of you guys psychic? Some of you are somehow being able to guess out some of my plot points before I have even posted a chapter. But I'm not going to be a spoiler and point out which lucky reviewers are hitting far too close for home when it comes to my story. I'll leave that to you guys.**

**Well, here's the Battle for King's Landing. Next chapter will be either an after-action report or the final phase of the battle, maybe a mixture of both. **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**TheForeverKing**


	13. Chapter 13

**Shutouts!**

**Guest: LONG LIVE KING CASPIAN INDEED!**

**Lykae'Sky: I think that's because it's shiny and it burns on water. And it melts stuff.**

**Chioocheep: Yeah I did consider her character, but she thought that she was going to die. It's one of those 'things I want to do before I die things'.**

**Legend3881: I hope this chapter explains why he had to sortie out to face off against his uncle instead of sitting back inside his castle. Sitting back is all good and everything, but not against a numerically superior foe, did the battles of Helm's Deep and Minas Tirith teach us nothing!?**

**I also have a battle report at the end of the chapter for you to enjoy, so yeah, hope the chapter and report explains why he sortied instead of kicking back and letting his uncle batter himself against the walls of King's Landing.**

**TetrisLame: I don't think he will be remembered for any valour to be honest. History is just going to remember him as 'that guy'.**

**Hail Emperor Naruto: Battle report, end of chapter. Hope that clears up a few things about the battle. Thinking of doing the same to every future battle I write, just to make things easier for people to understand. I tend not to write in numbers, I don't know why.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice &amp; Fire_

* * *

Cersei

_Gods help me, now they are singing._

As if this entire ordeal could not be any worse than it was, the frightened little hens that she had to be responsible due to her duties as queen, she now had to listen to these fools sing and pray to gods, _Gods that wouldn't even spare a single moment listening to their pathetic prayers._ There was a reason why gods were called gods. They rarely took interest in the matters of mortals.

The ballroom was now emptier than it had been when the whole ordeal had started. Somewhere during the start of the night, some of the ladies of gently birth and their personal servants who she had invited into Maegor's Holdfast to be under her protection had left her protection to go and pray in the Septs.

She could have snorted, _Foolish_. That was the only thought that ran through the mind when she allowed such women to leave. Praying to their gods will help none of them. if the walls fell, then all of them would be in for a lively night.

Maybe less so for the ones that had actually decided to stay with her in the ballroom.

She glanced around the room and noticed the auburn head of the northern empty headed girl that was betrothed to her golden lion. The empty headed girl was the one who had encouraged the women to sing, long after the musicians had played their last songs.

Cersei had ordered them to stop. The _Rains of Castamere_ were becoming dreadfully boring and the song itself brought about a strange morose feeling to the room. She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but she knew it was there.

_Sansa..._ If by some chance that they were actually able to survive and win this battle, the empty headed northern girl shouldn't be allowed to marry her golden lion. She reached out for her cup of wine as she thought of potential suitors, _Lancel?_ Although the boy held no lands and was not going to inherit any either, he was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, that was about a good a marriage for the daughter of a traitor like her would ever hope to accomplish.

Lancel wouldn't mind either way. The girl was pretty enough and young and if the gods were good, if they would ever so kindly take care of her older brother, then Lancel would stand to have a claim on Winterfell and the North with her as his wife, _And he would have something else other than me to grunt at as he dipped his cock into her cunt_.

A quiet, bitter chuckle escaped her lips. A laugh that went unnoticed among the chorus singing voices of the ladies within, _Look at me, planning marriages when in all likelihood, I am most likely shan't live to see the morn._ It was a depressing thought, but a realistic nonetheless.

Not for the first time in her life, Cersei Lannister cursed being born a woman. Why was she the one who had been born with teats and a cunt? If she had been born a man, or at the very least have been Jaime, she would be up there at the walls, leading the protection of the city, at the very least, hold her fate within her hands.

The city was in the hands of her vile, dwarf brother and her black lion of a son, _Or should it be White Lion now_? His hair was no longer the jet black that was his father's but had been slowly turning white over the past months, _It doesn't matter, he will always be my Black Lion_. Black Lion sounded far more ferocious than White Lion. It made him sound pure and innocent when he was assuredly not.

At the thought of second eldest, Cersei couldn't help but curse loudly within the confines of her mind. At the very least, the boy could have brought his host from the Stormlands when he had finished off the Dorne. Their chances of survival would have been much higher if he had.

But the thought was folly, what had been done, had been done.

_If I were his father, or at the very least a man, he would have listened to me and brought his host to defend his brother. _Once again, she couldn't help but think the thought folly, the gods had seen fit for her to be born as a woman. Someone to be married off by her lord father to gain alliances with someone he needed. The only time she had ever looked forward to being married was when her Lady Aunt Genna had told her of her impeding betrothal to Prince Rhaegar.

She had been ecstatic. If she were to be his wife, then she would go on to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And when she had seen him, oh gods, how she had drowned in those sad eyes of his. Those beautiful, deep purple eyes of his that held some kind of sadness to them.

She recalled that she had sworn to herself that she would make that sadness disappear when they were wed. She couldn't wait for it. She had known their children would be the most beautiful in all the realm, even her beloved Jaime looked nothing more than a callow beauty alongside Rhaegar.

Then Aerys madness had to go and ruin that match made by the gods. She still found herself angry whenever she thought of the incident. It only had to be madness that convinced Aerys to marry off his heir to some plain Dornishwoman with a flat-chest.

And then Robert had to go kill him, _If he had been wed to me, Rhaegar would not have even glanced at that northern girl._ Her lips curl into a smile of wry amusement.

The girl and the reason that had brought seen the fall of the Targaryen dynasty had been a Stark. Much like the empty headed girl in her ballroom as of right now. She wondered if there was something to be said about that family.

Although she could feel the effects of the wine hazing her mind and vision, Cersei still drank, though the wine was weaker to make sure that she still had something of her wits about her and she could still give instructions when someone came to her.

_Where are Osney and Osfryd? _She had tasked those two to bring her hourly news of the goings on of the battle and they had yet to come. She didn't react when she thought of the implications of their lateness, _Did those fools get themselves killed?_ It wasn't that much of a pity, but they still had their uses as sellsword and her personal guard after her vile brother was somehow able to send off her Lannister guards.

At that moment, the room was illuminated by an eery, dark green glow that seemed to stop all the singing that was happening. Cersei looked around before she noticed some of the women were going towards the windows that looked in the direction of the battle.

With as much grace as a person of her standing could muster, she rose from her seat and made her way down from the high table located upon the raised dais. Cersei couldn't help but think that even as drunk as she was, she still held herself in a queen's dignified manner.

She reached the window and looked out and noticed a dark cloud of green rise on the Blackwater Rush, strangely forming into the shape of a mushroom, _Wildfire._ She thought. That was the only thing she could think off that would cause such an explosion. She had commissioned the Alchemists' to make the substance for her for the defence of the city, but somehow, Tyrion had been able to get wind of it. She didn't understand how, but he had been able to learn of it somehow.

Well, it did not matter in the end. What was a bit of wildfire going to do to an army of fifty thousand? And by the looks of the explosion that was baking the city within its green glow, Tyrion or Caspian, maybe even both had used all of it in this ploy of theirs, _They better have killed many of those vile traitors._ A smile crept onto her lips when the thought of Renly and his butt-boy Ser Loras being burned alive by the substance.

"If you don't me asking, Your Grace," Cersei turned her head. It seemed somehow she had come to stand right beside the empty headed daughter of Ned Stark, "But what could Her Grace be smiling about?" She asked, her voice being carried clearly to her ears despite the loud chatter happening all around her by the other hens who were talking animatedly about the explosion.

Cersei swirled the wine that was within her cup as her glazed eyes looked over the Rush, "I think the thought would be a bit morbid for the likes of yourself Sansa." She replied.

"As you say, Your Grace." Sansa said in reply as she turned her attention away from her to the Rush that was now aflame with green fire that was both dark and light in colour as it danced upon the waters.

The girl was meek. That couldn't do. Joffrey would need a strong queen, to birth him strong children, _Strong golden haired lions._ Not some meek girl who was the daughter and sister to traitors, _Maybe Cerenna or Myrielle?_ A lion could only expect strong children to be sired by another lion of course.

And the marriages would also increase the power of House Lannister, _I suppose one of those girls would also have to be married to Caspian._ The marriage would tie Storm's End with Casterly Rock even more so. She would think about it later on.

Eventually, the sight of a burning river bored the gently born women who returned to the rest of the ballroom. There was now a life in the ballroom. The ladies were now talking amongst themselves more spiritedly and the fools, Moon Boy and Ser Dontos and the others were going around making them laugh, this time, some of their laughter did not seem strained or nervous but honest laugh.

It seemed as if the burning Blackwater Rush had burned some life into the menagerie, _And when that fire dies, so will there attitudes change._

Cersei smiled and waved and chatted occasionally with the ladies, acting as queenly as she could. This was expected of her, all the while thinking were Osney and Osfryd were. She was of a mind to send someone to go and learn of what was happening at the front herself.

She did not have to think longer as Osney came through the heavy doors of the ballroom, smelling of blood and sweat. Cersei watched as the young Kettleblack made his way through the crowds of women and occasional lord towards herself.

Cersei couldn't help but note that the room was suddenly quieter than before. The musicians had either stopped playing or were playing slow, quiet songs, _Quiet enough for them to overhear anything of whatever Osney says._

She didn't beckon Osney closer so that they could speak more privily among them, but allowed him to speak from where he stood, so the others could hear. She could give them the reality of their situation at least, "What of the battle?"

"The fighting has stopped Y'Grace." Osney said as he dabbled a dirty and bloody cloth across his brow to wipe away the sweat. If he had been planning to clear it away, all he had done was wipe blood across his brow, "Prince Caspian has set the Rush on fire with wildfire. The explosion took out the Reachmen that were in the midst of crossing the rush and the ones that had already landed on our side of the bank." He said, a smile on his face, "I don't know how many died in the explosion, but the bank had been filled with thousands o' them, Y'Grace. I think even more on their own side of the Rush along with the rafts that were crossing the waters."

Excited chatter rang throughout the ballroom, but Cersei didn't allow herself to become excited, "And of my sons? I hope none of them are too badly wounded." _The dwarf had promised that he would keep Joff safe._ She knew Caspian was more than able enough to keep himself away from danger. He had always been the able one. She saw a strange expression come across Osney's face, _No..._ She thought as she felt her belly tighten, "Tell me. I command it."

Osney tried to look everywhere but at her, "Y'Grace, when the explosion occurred, King Joffr-." She didn't wait for him to finish as she rose to her feet and quickly made her way off the high table and ran for the door.

It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Tyrion had given his word that no harm would come to her golden lion. He had given his _word_.

_But what is the word of a dwarf worth?_ A voice whispered in her head as she ran down the hallways towards the stable. She could hear the shouts of 'Y'Grace' coming from Osney Kettleblack who was quick in running after her.

A memory she had long since repressed came to her mind, _Will the king and I have children?_ She remembered asking, standing in that darkened and smelly tent of that vile woman.

_"Oh, aye." The vile woman had replied, her sickly, yellow eyes gleaming within the dark confines of the tent, "But only one will bare his name." That had confused her. What had the old crone meant with those words? She wanted to ask, but she had asked her three questions, but the old crone was not done with her, "Your gold lion will fall and be replaced by a black one. A black lion that will be your downfall."_

Could this be what the vile crone had forseen? She hoped not. She prayed it was not so. How could Caspian be her downfall, Joffrey was king. Her golden lion would not fall. He was to be the greatest king of them all.

XxX

Tyrion

Even as far away as he stood, Tyrion couldn't help but be uncomfortable at the sight of the Rush on fire, _Green fire no less._ The thought seemed ridiculous, but here it was happening. It was once said that wildfire was a close relative of dragonfire and it seemed who ever said such were correct in their assumption.

Tyrion waddled his way back towards the River Gate, Ser Mandon ever stalking behind him quietly. He would admit the Kingsguard knight was a rather uncomfortable fellow to be with, but he would admit that he seemed to be the most able of the lot to entrust his wellbeing too...not that he would trust anyone in King's Landing, especially the pets of her darling sister.

As he neared the gate, he could hear the sounds of cheering and before long he saw some of the defenders cheering and drinking and saluting to the Rush that was on fire. He was confused at the sight, it was as if the lots had thought they had won the battle.

He saw Ser Jacelyn Bywater standing at the side, his arms crossed over his chest. Tyrion quickly made his way towards his man, "Ser Jacelyn," He said quickly, getting the attention of the newly promoted City Watch commander, "Just what is happening? Why are the men drinking? We don't know when the fire will be out and I rather not have drunken defenders on the wall." He said quickly, uneasy eyes falling in all around him as men drank.

The gold cloak commander smiled down at him, "I said the same thing to the prince, but he dismissed it, saying that the ale would be moderated and that this is good to raise morale."

Tyrion didn't feel so sure as he looked around, "Raise morale you say?" He asked as he looked around. Well, he had to admit that previously grim and dour expressions were now far less grim and dour, but that still didn't fill him with any kind of emotion other than dread, "Where is my nephew? I want to have some words with him." If he wanted to raise morale, he could have just gone and sent for whores. That would have raised morale a thousand fold without getting his men drunk.

Ser Jacelyn pointed him in the direction of one of the guard rooms that had been appropriated by Caspian as his command centre, "In there my lord." The man said before looking down at him with something in his eyes, "But there's something you should know."

Tyrion didn't like the look in his eyes, his expression or the tone he spoke in, "Am I going to like this something I should know?" He asked tentatively. Ser Jacelyn shook his head and Tyrion couldn't help but sigh, "Does Caspian know this thing that you want to tell me?"

"Yes, my lord."

Tyrion gave a quick, curt nod as he turned on his heel, "Good. I'll learn it from Caspian then." He said as he made his way toward the guard room, all the way trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling that was within his stomach.

He opened the door to the room and came to a sight of Caspian sat on a chair, his leg raised onto a table and a healer tending to his arm. Caspian had turned his head when he heard the door opening, "Uncle!" He greeted amicably enough, "I think my little plan worked."

Tyrion made his way towards his nephew, "Yes," He had began as he pulled out a chair and took a seat for himself, "I saw the effects of your little plan. Please do tell me what exactly did you do? The wildfire couldn't have been the cause of all that damage." He had seen the large wooden gates of the River Gate riddled with holes and King's Landings walls also had been embedded with round shapes.

Although his knowledge of the substance wasn't to the same breadth as that of an alchemist, but he knew his basics. Wildfire didn't do such a thing or cause such an effect.

Caspian shook his head as the healer tended to his arm. Tyrion noticed that the healer was placing white maggots onto the wound to clean it. If Caspian was uncomfortable by the sight of having maggots eat at his flesh, he didn't show it, "Uncle Renly outnumbered us to the point that where he to gain a foothold on our side of the Rush and bring over his siege engines like ladders and battering ram, we wouldn't have been able to hold out."

Tyrion nodded his head as he watched his nephew intently, "I know that." That had been one of the reasons why they had been fine with sorting out to meet their foes instead of staying behind the safety of King's Landing's walls.

Renly outnumbered them and if he brought to bare his siege engines, the defenders would have been overrun. Their only chance of success was to stop him from occupying their bank of the Rush so that he could bring over his battering rams and ladders and that was the course of action they had chosen.

It also helped that they had the advantage of the fact that Renly's man would find themselves disorganised and unsteady after traversing the fast-moving and treacherous waters of the Rush, making them easy killings for the defenders.

Caspian nodded, "Then you would also know that both Uncle Renly's and our own forces would suffer from attrition no?"

Once again Tyrion couldn't help but nod. It was of a questionable debate of who would suffer the most when it came to the attrition caused by the battle. On one hand, others would say the defenders themselves would suffer the most attrition due to the fact that they would lose men that Renly would be able to replace easily because he had the larger numbers, whilst others would say the worst was on Renly.

He would lose men over the skirmishing, the fast-flowing waters of the Rush, the artillery fire and the melee happening on the banks itself were the advantage laid with the incoming defenders.

Caspian continued speaking at seeing his uncle nod, "Well, it was bound to happen eventually that we would find ourselves unable to sortie out anymore due to losses. By then, I figured Uncle Renly would control both banks of the Rush and have men crossing the Rush at a constant rate. That would be where the wildfire came in." He paused to wince slightly as the healer started stitching his cut after removing the maggots, "But on its own, it would not have caused any significant damage. It would have exploded and killed a number of them, but not the numbers that I would want."

Tyrion couldn't help but give his nephew an inquisitive look, "So what did you do to make sure that the wildfire killed the numbers that you wanted?"

His nephew looked at him and gave him a sly grin, "I had the blacksmiths of King's Landing fashion me as many small metal balls they could. Spiked or not."

It took a while, but Tyrion was eventually able to blink and respond, "...Metal balls?" He asked, confused and he voiced it, "I don't understand." He finished.

His nephew nodded his head as he began his explanation, "You know how when a firepot explodes, it explodes outwards?"

"Yes." He said in answer slowly, his answer accompanied by the slow nodding of the head.

"I took that principle and applied it with the wildfire." He winced again from the stitching. Tyrion could have sworn he cast a dirty glance at the healer, "I had the metal balls placed in barrels and had them packed into the holds and decks of those three ships. The vast majority of them were placed in the sides of the ship that would face Uncle Renly's army and others facing our own bank in the event that it was taken."

Tyrion didn't need to hear anymore as he had figured out the rest. With that, he couldn't help but laugh.

Caspian had cast him a thin smile, "I see you figured it out."

Tyrion gave a nod of his head, "How many do you think that little ploy of yours killed?" He asked as he regained his breath. Nothing was ever boring when it came with his nephew was it?

He saw his nephew shrug at him, "I don't know. I know for sure that on our side of the bank, any Reach forces were either killed or wounded when the explosion happened..." He gave a knowing look to his uncle, "And that wasn't even half as filled as Uncle Renly's own side of the bank. Although some of the metal balls probably would have been melted by the heat of the wildfire explosion." He finished with a slight look of disdain on his face.

_"_If your little trick worked, then I am sure than Joffrey will claim credit for it." Tyrion remarked absentmindedly.

"I doubt it."

The way his nephew had said those words troubled him. He cast a wary look in his direction, "…What do you mean sweet nephew?" All Caspian did was raise his good arm and point in one direction of the guardsroom. Tyrion followed the direction and his eyes widened at the side of a slightly melted golden helmet in the design of a lion, "No..." He breathed.

"Joffrey was always his own worst enemy." He heard his nephew say. Although he knew the brothers shared no love lost between themselves, the apathy and dismissiveness his nephew's voice showed at the death of his brother nearly surprised him.

Tyrion jumped off his chair and quickly made his way towards the helmet, "Is he-How?" He began to say but quickly changing his question.

"Glory." Came the answer from his sweet nephew, "Joffrey died in search of glory."

Tyrion turned around, holding the helmet in his small, stubby hands, a serious look on his face, "Your mother will need more than that. You know how she loved the boy."

The healer had finished his work and made his leave, leaving the two alone. Caspian tested his bandaged arm around by moving it about, only wincing every now and then in pain. Then he finally spoke after setting his arm down, "Don't I ever?" His voice held trace amounts of bitterness in their tone and Tyrion could understand where the bitterness came from, "The bank was lost, I called for a retreat back to the River Gate, that was when I sent you off to begin our little ploy, but somewhere in Joffrey's head, he thought he could sortie out and face the Reachmen. I went after him, by then, the ships were racing down the Rush and the arrow had been let loose, and well, as they say, the rest is history." He finished with a shrug of the shoulders as he rose to his feet and made his way towards the door that led outside.

Tyrion followed after him, his expression grim as he held the slightly melted helmet within his hands, "She won't like that." He said, not needing to go into more detail on who 'she' was. They both knew, "She will find someone to blame."

Caspian allowed a weary sigh to escape his lips as he ran a bloody hand through his dirty, near white hair. His hair would have been given a red colouring, but unfortunately, it wasn't to be as it already had a deep red colouring from all the blood he had spilled, only fleck of black and white showing his original hair underneath the blood and grime, "She can blame me. It's my fault anyway. I should have known Joffrey would do something stupid. I should have tied to a post or something. Hell, he shouldn't have been here."

Tyrion waddled beside him, "You can't blame yourself for this." He said soothingly to his nephew, "You couldn't have known Joffrey would do something like this. We both know he was never the smartest of the litter."

Tyrion heard a growl escape from his nephew's throat, "Funnily enough, I'm more pissed at the fact that his little stunt cost me at least five hundred or so men. Good men that would have been more that helpful in defending the walls when the fire burns down." He heard him say, "If he had been the only one to die, I wouldn't feel half as annoyed as I do right now."

Tyrion cast him a look, "That's rather...cold."

His nephew shrugged, "It is what it is." The sound of galloping horses attracted their attention. They turned their heads to face the direction of the Red Keep where they saw a group of horses come their way, "Oh...it's mother." Caspian said when he saw who was leading the group.

"Yes," Tyrion said slowly, "I do believe that's your mother. You think she knows?" He asked as he glanced up at his nephew.

"Most likely." Caspian said with a sigh, "She wouldn't be coming here if she didn't. She would still be in the ballroom entertaining the other highborn ladies."

"True." Was all Tyrion could say before his sister finally reached them, her horse coming to a skidding halt several feet in front of them. Amongst the eerie, green glow given by the wildfire, his sister's beauty seemed to increase. He forced himself to smile, "Why dear sister, this isn't a place for the queen." _And don't you just hate that Cersei?_

His sister's face was fret with worry and anxiousness. She cast a look at him and her eyes trailed to the side of where he was holding the helmet, _Joffrey's_ helmet and that made her worry even more. Her eyes seemed to moisten.

Tyrion cursed, _I should have left the helmet in the guardroom._

Cersei de-mounted her horse and quickly made her way towards the two of them. Ignoring the sayings of "Y'Grace." That were cast in her direction by the soldiers, "Is that...?" Her voice choked. She couldn't even finish her question.

Caspian had an even look about him as he answered, "Unfortunately yes mother." He answered, his tone as even as his voice, "That is Joffrey's helmet."

Cersei seemed to have trouble processing the information that was being given to her as she looked around, _Is she going into denial?_ This was bad. The queen going hysterical would do little for morale.

"Don't tell your mother such crude jests Caspian." She said, "Where is your brother? Is he hiding somewhere?"

Caspian as always, chose the strangest of times to be blunt with his words, as shown when he replied to her questions, "He's dead mother."

The slap was so quick that Tyrion was surprised he had seen her hand move, "He was your brother, _your_ king." She slapped him again, this time on the other cheek and Caspian took it, he didn't seem to even register the hits, "You were supposed to protect him."

By now, they had spectators in the form of the soldiers who were looking at the scene with looks. Tyrion had to step in and stop this mummer's show from going on any further. Infighting was one other way to destroy morale, "Come now sister, Caspian did his very best to protect Joffrey. But as good as he is, Caspian couldn't protect Joffrey from _himself_."

His sister sent him the most venomous look that she had ever given him. A look that had actually caused him to step back in surprise. He knew she hated him, but she had never given him such a look, "Are you trying to say Joffrey went to kill himself?" She said, snarling at him. She stalked slowly towards him, "Do you take me for a fool? This is clearly your doing. You were always of the mind that Caspian was better suited for the throne."

If he could, he would have rolled his eyes, _The Throne is his to begin with!_ He wanted to scream, but all he did was give his sister a pensive smile, "I do not take you for a fool sister. I am telling you as it is. Joffrey ignored his brother's orders and went to meet Renly's forces when Caspian had ordered no more sorties to be carried out." Cersei was now dangerously close to him and he couldn't help but think that maybe he should go and run for it.

He didn't have to as Cersei was stopped in her tracks by the hands of his nephew, "Uncle isn't at fault mother. He was nowhere near the River Gate when Joffrey decided to ignore my orders."

She turned to Caspian, "Joff was _the _king. He could do as he wished."

"And it's that sort of attitude and thinking that sent him to his early grave." He heard his nephew deadpan. Cersei slapped him once more, "If he had listened to me, he would still very much be alive." Caspian finished, having turned his head to look at his mother after her slap had turned his head to the side, "Ouch. That hurt more than the first two."

By now, Tyrion could see tears pouring down from his sister's face. The salty liquid reflecting the green embers of the burning Blackwater Rush. A feeble fist pounded on his nephew chest. Caspian didn't seem to register it, "He was your brother, your king." Cersei whimpered, another fist following the first.

Caspian just took her in his arms, "I know." He said lowly.

"Your brother." Another fist hit his nephew in the chest.

And like a trained parrot, Caspian replied, "I know."

And another came from Cersei, "Your king." The tears were streaming down her face now.

"I know." Caspian turned his head towards Osney Kettleblack, "Take my lady mother back to her bedchambers and sent for Grand Maester Pycelle to give her some dreamwine."

The sellsword nodded his head as he moved to lead his sister back to the Red Keep, "As you wish, Y'Grace." He said as he led her away. The youngest of the Kettleblacks cast a look back at him, "For what it's worth, Y'Grace, I'm sorry about your brother." He said, before leaving with the rest of the group that had arrived with the queen.

Tyrion didn't hear Caspian reply until his sister was long out of hearing range, "Don't be. He wasn't even worth it."

Tyrion could only give his nephew a thin, tight smile, "Rather cruel, no?"

His nephew looked down at him with those mismatched eyes of his. His deep blue now a sea-green within the glows of the burning Blackwater Rush and his lilac glowing, "Do you think my dear brother is worth any condolences?"

Tyrion thought about it, before he eventually shook his head, "No." Apart from Cersei, he thought of no-one else that would weep for the boy, _I doubt Jaime would even weep for his son._

XxX

The Would Be King

Renly stood within his command tent with a grim expression on his face as he looked down at the map sat in front of him. Within the tent stood his the delegation from the northmen and riverlanders, Lady Catelyn, Renly's loyal friend, knight and secret paramour Ser Loras, his good-father and benefactor, Lord Mace Tyrell and his second-in-command in all but name, Lord Mathis Rowan along with his other commanders. He had more, but some had perished earlier in the battle or during the wildfire escapade.

The tent was eerily quiet.

How could it not be? What should have been an easy battle had turned into a bloody affair. They had more numbers than the defenders of King's Landing yet they were losing. The city should have long since fallen in half a day, that had been the earliest prospects but it seemed he had underestimated his nephew and his prowess in battle.

He had learned of his nephew's victory against the Dornish host at the Prince's Pass but had only attributed that victory to his commanders and soldiers. The Storm Lords were a martial folk, they knew how to wield a sword as good as any. Some would say the Stormlands produced the best foot out of the Seven Kingdoms but that was neither here nor there.

It seemed that he should have paid more respect to his nephew. He had held out the city against foes that overwhelmed him by sheer numbers and had caused a large number of losses for his own forces with the little force he had.

He cursed Tywin Lannister and he cursed his oldest brother Robert.

He cursed Tywin Lannister because he knew the Old Lion would have taught his then heir apparent to Casterly Rock all of his knowledge, from administrating Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, to warfare.

And he cursed his brother because it seemed as if Caspian had inherited his father's fighting prowess. He should have known to be honest. The boy was already a known tourney knight, winning jousts and melees left, right and centre.

Reports had said he had already claimed three heirs and lords to Reach lands as either prisoners or trophies.

_I can't ignore them forever._ Renly thought, _I'll have to ask eventually._ He raised his head to face the others in his tent, "What are our losses?"

It was Mathis Rown who spoke, his face grim, "We can't be accurate, but estimates are at around or more than twenty-thousand, Your Grace."

Renly's jaw clenched and his mouth tightened. Twenty-thousand men? Wasn't this supposed to have been an easy battle against ten thousand or so enemies? _And yet those ten thousand have killed at least double their number._

His good-father was next to speak, "That isn't so bad," Renly could have honestly looked at his good-father with a bewildered expression if the others already weren't, "We still have thirty thousand men. The Lannisters and Baratheons won't have more than five thousand by now surely. We can take the city."

Renly couldn't help but see where the Lord of Highgarden was coming from. The battle hadn't been bloody just for his own forces, but bloody for them also. But he knew they had to be quick, who knew if Caspian had sent a raven to Storm's End for a host to march on their rear?

He looked at his commanders with a resolute expression, "My good-father is correct. We can still take this city. When the fires have died down, we shall try again."

Lord Mathis was quick to shoot down that idea, "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Your Grace."

His lover seemed to be annoyed as he cast a quick look in the direction of the stout man, "What do you mean Lord Mathis?" His question holding something of a dangerous undertone to it.

The Lord of Goldengrove gave them both a stern look, unfazed by the question or the hidden undertones, "The men won't cross the river." He said, "Not after the wildfire. The sentiments among the men is that should they try to cross the Rush once more as they did, three more ships filled with wildfire will be sent up river."

"There is also talk that this entire campaign is folly." Another lord spoke, "That the gods have willed that the boy king should stay on the throne as he is the rightful king."

Those words brought no measure of comfort to Renly. His men were losing morale. Seeing the their comrades burned alive, drowned and repeatedly cut down by the defenders and now the whole business with the wildfire was starting to come back and bite him in the ass.

He needed to do something to or someone to do something to raise morale. It should be him to do it, but he was at a lost of how exactly do to that, _Robert could have raised morale. He would have known how to._ His drunkard, whoring brother was oddly charismatic in his own way. That he could give him, _In fact, Robert would not have to raise any sort of morale. He would have already taken the city by now._ He could have smirked at that realisation, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Mathis Rowan spoke again, "We should have circled around the Rush and attacked from the north of the city instead of the south."

That had been one of the battle plans, to attack the city from the north instead of the south. Lord Mathis had championed that plan but in his haste to be crowned, Renly had gone from attacking from beyond the Blackwater Rush and that seems to have become his folly.

_I should have listened to the man._ Renly thought, _I was too hasty._ If they had attacked from the north, they could have chosen several gates to attack and spread the defenders thin. Not only that, but they would also have been quicker to bring the ladders and the battering rams to bare on the gates, instead of having to spend time and men to capture an opposing bank to make it a safe landing zone for their siege engines.

Lady Catelyn was next to speak, "If you attack from the north, I'm sure Robb will be willing to join in the attack with northmen and riverlander hosts." Her words seemed to have an effect among the tent as the other lords as they consented to that plan of motion.

Renly could see the benefits of such an action, but there was a problem nonetheless, "If we wait for your son's host Lady Catelyn, it will give time for my nephew's host from the Stormlands to come and reinforce King's Landing."

"Maybe so," The Tully scion admitted, "But you would still outnumber them, and surround the city, stretching the defenders even further." The sounds of a commotion could be heard in the distant background amidst the roaring of the green fires on the Rush.

She had a point, Renly could admit that much, _I now have a woman who knows more about warefare than me and another who is better with a sword. What does that say about me?_

Before he could open his mouth to speak, a soldier burst into his tent, panting, "My lords!" He panted out, taking a moment to take a deep breath of air.

"What is it?" Lord Mace asked, "We are busy here."

"We are under-attack!" That raised all the eyebrows within the room in alarm.

"Who?" Ser Loras asked quickly, "Caspian?"

The soldier shook his head, "No, my lord. We being attacked from the east and west of us. All of the soldiers horse my lords."

"How did the boy catch us in a pincer movement?" Was a question one of the lords asked as Renly quickly moved to the opening of his tent. He exited the tent and looked in the east of himself, in the direction of the Blackwater Bay and could see the signs of battle and hear the sounds of horses. Then he looked to the west and he saw the same sight.

_The men are breaking._ Renly observed shocked as he saw some where retreating back into the kingswood, dropping their weapons, _This isn't good._ He continued, by now the other lords having exited the command tent. Some were in a panic others were trying to get their men into order. As he watched, a dawning thought came to Renly's mind, _We have to retreat. The battle is lost._

Lord Mathis came beside him, "Your Grace," He said lowly, "We have to retreat. The day is lost."

Renly clenched and unclenched a mailed fist, "I know." He admitted quietly, "Sound the retreat." Another commotion erupted, but this time, coming from behind their only place of retreat, the kingswood. Renly was quick to turn around and look into the darkened woods, his expression aghast, "He had us surrounded? How did they pass our outriders, scouts and rearguard?"

Lord Mathis seemed impeccably calm despite the situation they found themselves in, "Your nephew seems rather capable when it comes to war." He almost sounded impressed as he talked, not having answered the question that was asked off him.

Renly panicked, "There must be something we can do!"

"There is," Lord Mathis said. Renly looked at him expectantly, "We can surrender."

That wasn't exactly what Renly had wanted to hear but as he looked around him at the distant battlefields happening to the east and west of him, some of his soldiers were surrendering rather than continue fighting.

Ser Loras walked up to him, "Not today Lord Mathis." The Knight of Flowers said. He placed a hand on Renly's shoulder, "Come Renly, we have horses ready. We'll take the city another day."

Loras began to lead him towards the horses, Lord Mathis behind them, "Now it's all a matter of whether we can bypass your nephew's encirclement." Mathis said and his voice was seemingly starting to grate on Renly's nerves. It seemed as if he was rather impressed by what his nephew had been able to pull off.

"Another time Lord Mathis." Renly growled out at him, "I don't have the time nor the patience." As they reached their horses, he wondered whether Lady Catelyn would be able to escape today, _If not, I might as well have just gave my nephews a valuable hostage in Lady Catelyn against Robb Stark._

* * *

(**Slight Spoiler Warning Maybe? I don't think it is, but I guess I have a duty to warn you, so read at your peril.)**

**How Seven Became One written by Archmaster Frederic**

_The War of the Four Kings as it was called._

_A war fought for the Iron Throne by several parties, although it should be admitted that two of those parties was more interested in declaring the independence of their realms from the Iron Throne. I have spent many much of my life studying history, of how we can learn from the past to create a better tomorrow from learning the mistakes of our past._

_I will not be arrogant enough to declare that I am the first person to think such a thought when I know I'm not. Many have tried to look to the past to create a better tomorrow and failed in their journey, whilst others were able to create that future they wanted. _

_Without a doubt, many consider this war, one of the many wars Westeros had suffered to be the main catalyst that brought the rise of the men that changed Westeros, many consider for the better._

_In this chapter, I shall give a brief over-view of the two battles one of such men partook in with recorded accounts from people that had fought in those very battles themselves, to have a better understanding of how these men viewed _this _particular man._

**Battle Reports**

Battle of the Prince's Pass

Conflict: War of the Four Kings

Date: Late 298 AL

Place: The Prince's Pass, Dornish Marches

Result: House Baratheon of Storm's End Victory

Combatants

House Baratheon (Including its vassal Houses) - House Martell (Including its vassal Houses)

Commanders

Prince Caspian Baratheon - Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell

Lord Ralph Buckler - Lord Anders Yronwood

Strength

45,000 - 35,000

Casualties

Est. 7,000+ - Est. 14,000+

Prelude

After gaining the support of the Reach in his quest to crown himself king, Renly marched on King's Landing with a host that was 100,000 strong. Rather strangely and confusingly, he had marched on King's Landing without seemingly carrying about the open flanks he had left with the Stormlands. It was later revealed he had left his flanks open due to the fact that he had worked out some kind of deal with the Princes of Dorne to attack the Stormlands and garner their attention.

The Dornishmen were quick to assault the Marcher lords but the robust castles of the Marcher Lords were able to hold out against the vanguard of the Dornish host until reinforcements from Prince Caspian of House Baratheon and the other Stormlords marched to relieve them.

The Battle

After having sent the Dornish host into retreat back into the Prince's Pass and knowing that the Dornish host was the one doing the attacking. Prince Caspian set his arm within a large plain right in front of the Prince's Pass. He set his army into a triple line formation, the foot in front of the archers with the professional soldiery in the centre and levies at the flanks, archers behind them and the calvary in the back.

The Prince had also split his horse into three, leaving three thousand horse with himself and sending the remaining eight thousand to the far flanks in two groups of four thousand. When the battle had started, they were to ride back and smash into the vulnerable flanks of the dornish host, bringing about discord and chaos and hopefully, a quick victory.

Eventually, the Dornish host exited the Prince's Pass and was quick to engage the Stormlanders in battle. The centre had been able to hold back the initial Dornish charge, the right flank had buckled but was able to hold out and continue fighting although the left flank proved to be a problem as the Dornish had been able to break it and cut a wedge through it.

Prince Caspian soon joined the battle, leading a force of 1,500 horse to relieve the left flank but was quick to note that the opposing commander, Prince Oberyn had also noticed the weakness of the left flank and had moved with knights of House Martell and Yronwood to destroy it and round his horse to attack the rears of the Stormlander host.

To stop this from happening, Prince Caspian charged the large Dornish host contingent that had nearly double their own horse count. The two sides met in furious combat and Prince Caspian was able to defeat Prince Oberyn and not long after, one of the horse units attacking from the western flank soon joined the battle, brining an additional four thousand horse that soon routed the Dornish horses.

The Stormlander horse then carried on and attacked the Dornish flank, sending the Dornish host into disarray whilst causing a large amount of casualties. This scene being replicated on the eastern flank.

Aftermath

Prince Caspian was able to prove himself a capable commander with the defeat of the Dornish host and a warrior as he was able to defeat Prince Oberyn in the field and take him as a hostage along with Daemon Sand, one of Dorne's finest swords.

During the Battle, his sworn sword, Asher Sand had also been able capture Cletus Yronwood and cut down Lord Anders Yronwood.

The battle proved a decisive victory for the Stormlanders and that battle effectively put the Dornish out of contention of the War of the Four Kings as many lords and heirs, including the second son of the ruling House and the heir of the second most powerful House in Dorne were all captured and interred at various castles within the Stormlands.

Battle of King's Landing

Conflict: War of the Four Kings

Date: Early 299 AL

Place: King's Landing, The Crownlands

Result: Houses Baratheon of King's Landing &amp; Storm's Landing, House Lannister Victory.

Combatants:

House Baratheon of King's Landing - House Tyrell (Including its vassal Houses)

House Baratheon of Storm's End

House Lannister (Composed of men sworn to Casterly Rock in protection of Cersei Lannister and her family.)

Commanders:

King Joffrey I Baratheon (De jure commander) - Renly Baratheon (Overall commander)

Prince Caspian Baratheon (De facto commander &amp; Commander of the Stormlander forces) - Lord Mathis Rowan (Commander)

Tyrion Lannister (Second-in-Command)

Ser Jacelyn Bywater (City Watch Commander)

Strength

8,000 Gold Cloaks - 50,000 Reachmen

9,000 Stormlanders

15,000 Defenders In Total

Casualties:

Est. 7,000+ - Est. 20,000+

Prelude:

Having noticed that the Dornish were to act as a distraction whilst Renly made for King's Landing, Prince Caspian rode hard will all his remaining horse to King's Landing that number 9,000. Before doing so, he had left Lord Ralph Buckler in charge of a 15,000 strong host that was to leisurely make their way through the Reach, acting as if they were threatening several lands of the Reachmen but under strict orders not to burn or pillage any crops, however, they could raid towns or storehouses for supplies.

This gambit of the Prince's along with the ironborn attacks across the western coast resulted in Renly splitting his 100,000 host into two. He sent a 50,000 strong host back to the Reach under the command of Lord Randyll Tarly to defend his lords lands against the ironborn and the Stormlanders, leaving him with 50,000 for the taking of King's Landing before continuing on his way towards King's Landing.

When Prince Caspian had arrived at King's Landing, he had been expecting the city to be under siege and thus giving him a chance to take his uncle in the rear (pun kind of intended) but his uncle had been in no haste to make his way to the city and instead travelled ever so slowly, holding feasts and melees and every castle and crossroad.

The prince was also under the impression his uncle did not expect for the Dornish to be defeated so quickly after joining the war.

With this knowledge in hand, it gave Prince Caspian the chance to prepare King's Landing for the oncoming battle, hoping against all hope that his uncle wouldn't try to starve them out, but instead attack them.

It seemed as if the gods had been listening as his uncle, when he arrived, proceeded to attack rather than starve them out.

The Battle

The battle had begun a little after noon, with Renly sending his catapults into pounding the city walls of King's Landing. Not long afterwards, his first wave of soldiers was sent forth.

The prince, knowing that if his uncle was to gain or capture the opposing bank of the Blackwater Rush would by all means result in the victory of his uncle as it would allow him to bring siege weapons such as a battering ram and ladders to their side of the Rush, prepared four companies of a thousand men each, with another reserve of a thousand that was sortie out in turns to meet the Reachmen who had made it across the Rush.

Despite the smaller numbers of the defenders, the battle was going well for them. The fast-flowing and treacherous waters of the Rush meant only the sturdiest of rafts could make it across and the weakest ones were destroyed and washed away, killing many of the men that rode upon them. This meant by the time that the Reachmen were getting somewhere with their attacks, only a few dozen or so rafts were left, making the ferrying of man harder and slower, leaving the Reachmen waiting on the opposing bank to the mercies of the archers and trebuchets of Prince Caspian.

The Reachmen also found themselves pressurised as soon as they stepped off their rafts by eager and waiting Crownlanders and Stormlanders and they lost ground since they fought on unsteady legs and the journey across the hazardous Rush had worn on them.

Eventually, the toll of having to fight fifty thousand men began to wear upon the defenders as they began to slowly lose ground. Each time a new wave made the beachhead, a fewer amount of soldiers would come out to meet them. By the time night had fallen, it became impossible to hold the bank and Prince Caspian ordered a general retreat back into the River Gate and prepared one of his gambits in a bid to even out the numbers before awaiting the eventual storming of the city by his uncle's forces.

Previously, his uncle had learned that Prince Caspian's mother, Queen Regent Cersei had commissioned the Alchemists to produce wildfire for the defence of the city, the prince had been skeptical about how to use it properly before an idea sprang to mind. He quickly commissioned all the blacksmiths in King's Landing to craft small metal balls or pellets in the thousands before he had those pellets stacked onto several ships, three of them being _Lady Lyanna, King Robert's Hammer _and _Lionstar. _He also had the ships filled with wildfire and pitch oil.

When bank of King's Landing had been taken by the Reachmen, he gave the order for the ships to be sailed upriver were the crew were to promptly abandon ship.

As the three ships made their way upriver through their own momentum and the flowing waters of the Rush, they left a trail of liquid wildfire that was being dropped into the water behind them.

The prince had planned for the ships to sail in front of the River Gate, let loose a flaming arrow into the flowing waters were the wildfire would catch alight before burning all the way back to the source and causing an explosion among the ships, sending the pellets and metal balls flying as fragmentation that would hopefully kill many of the Reachmen.

The tactic worked, but it also unfortunately resulted in the apparent death of King Joffrey I as he was caught in the explosion.

To this day, maesters have debated why King Joffrey I had ignored the orders of his brother and sortied out. Many think that the King had sallied forth to meet the enemy due to feelings of inadequacy compared to that of his brother as reports from the battle have suggested the king's brother, Prince Caspian had used him as nothing more than a tool to keep morale happy rather than allow him to gain the glory he believed he would gain from the battle.

The explosion had set the Blackwater Rush aflame, causing a lull in battle as the burning waters made it impossible for the Reachmen to cross. This gave the chance for the defenders to relax, but unknown to many, the explosion of the three ships and the wildfire had been nothing more than a signal to another one of Prince Caspian's gambits.

The Aftermath

The battle resulted in what seemed like to be a Pyrrhic victory for the defenders at the time, and with the apparent death of King Joffrey I, it paved the way for Prince Caspian to ascend the Iron Throne to become King Caspian I, the Great, one of the main catalysts that changed the Seven Kingdoms from being Seven into One.

* * *

**AN: AHHHHHHH. Gawwwddddddddd, had suffered a writer's block on this one. Fuck. I didn't think I was ever going to be able to rub this one out, but it seems like I did. I am an awesome man, and you all know it.**

**I planned on introducing Stannis the Mannis in this chapter, but it seemed he will be coming in the next one instead.**

**Ah yes, if you think I maybe spoiling with the battle reports, who's to say that's how the story will end? For all we know, Caspian could have died long before ASOIAF finished or replaced by that other guy, you know, the guy called Aegon. What I'm trying to say is, you may think you know what happens at the end, but you don't exactly know what happens before the end, catch my drift maties? **

**So Caspian is given the moniker 'the Great', as far as the reader is concerned, that means little to the greater part of the story as you are unaware of why he is called 'the Great'. It could be for something that doesn't involve him being king at all :D 0.0**

**Peace out boys and girls and leave a review whilst you are at it.**

**TheForeverKing**


	14. Chapter 14

**Jmg94: Joffrey was Cersei's firstborn. She loved him so much that she refused to see all his faults or the fact that he was a wicked, little shit.**

**Trap3r: I prefer cunning actually ;)**

_Dicsclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/ASOIAF_

* * *

Tyrion

Caspian was the first one to step off the row boat and make land on the opposite bank of the Blackwater Rush that had previously been occupied by Renly's forces. Tyrion was the next one to also make land, although he had some difficulty trying to stay balanced on the swaying of the boat until it ran aground.

He could tell that the rowers on the boat found the sight of him waddling about unbalanced extremely amusing, maybe even some of them hoping he would make an arse out of himself and fall over, _They would just love that wouldn't it?_

By now, he had already gotten used to the aroma of death, but once again, he couldn't help himself when he found his stomach growling when the scent of cooked meat hit his nostrils. Cooked _human_ meat.

He wanted to puke.

The wildfire had roasted many bodies, some had the luck that they had been cooked when they were already dead, others weren't so lucky as they found themselves cooked and roasted alive. As he made his way towards his nephew, he looked around and saw some melted armor and weapons that the wildfire had melted.

_A relative of dragonfire indeed._ The stories said that dragonfire was amongst the hottest fire in the world. Hot enough to melt stone. Harrenhal was enough of a testament and proof to that old story and it seemed wildfire was living to its reputation as a cousin of that legendary fire.

"Hungry uncle?" He head Caspian asked as he glanced down at him, "I heard your stomach growling. I wasn't aware you were into cannibalism."

Tyrion waddled into step beside his nephew as they made their way across the bank towards the hill that overlooked it. All around them, they could see knights and horsemen of the Stormlands moving about the bank, carrying bodies and placing them into piles. He also saw other men with a strange sigil doing the same, a stag within a burning heart.

"I'm not." Tyrion eventually said as they began to make their ascent on the small hill, "I just haven't had a decent meal all night, and who knew human meat smelled so _tasty_ after being cooked alive?"

The prince laughed, "I understand that I guess. I'm sure when this is all over and done with, there will be a mighty feast to celebrate our victory."

Tyrion glanced up at his nephew as he struggled with the ascent of the hill, "You are aware we still have food problems, no?"

"Something will appear." Replied the prince, "I'm sure of it. I can feel it in my balls."

"Of course you do." Tyrion had replied with a roll of the eyes and a small, crooked smile of amusement at his nephew.

Although he was actually walking up the hill that Renly's army had made it's appearance from, Tyrion still found himself in stark disbelief that one side of this war was actually going to be over.

The wildfire had burned till the crack of dawn. When Tyrion had opened his eyes after taking a small nap, the green, ethereal flames had disappeared from the Rush. He had expected to prepare himself for another day of battle only to see the crowned personal stag of Prince Caspian flying on the opposite shore.

He had been stunned in silence, even the men that had been manning the walls had also been stunned into silence. Some didn't know what to make of this. Others thought that it was some ploy by Renly to make them lower their guard, others thought they were reinforcements from the Stormlands, but that thought and words were said apprehensively.

It wasn't until Caspian had actually been woken up from his own bed and showed the unusual did he merely smile and ordered for the gates to be opened and for someone to get him a row boat to cross the Rush and for the defenders to go and get their dead and any man who had survived several hours of stifling heat near the unnatural green flames.

When they had waited for the row boat to make it appearance, Tyrion had vigorously questioned his nephew about the whole situation, "Remember back when you inspected the walls and said to me that you were sure we were missing some men?" He had said, with, at the time, an extremely infuriating and knowing smile on his face.

"Yes," Tyrion had said, nodding his oversized head, "I do remember that."

Caspian had just nodded with his head in the direction of the opposite bank were the stag banners were billowing in the gentle wind, "Yeah, well, there's the rest of them." He had said, "I had them set up further down the bank of the Rush, away from Renly's forces. They were to come in and attack them when they saw the signal."

Tyrion had not needed any more information to know what the 'signal' was, "The Blackwater Rush turning green with fire." He recalled saying, rather sure that his eyes had been widened somewhat.

"Exactly." His favorite nephew said to him, "Seems like it worked. I seem to be rather good at taking people in the flank." He had then seen his nephew observe the opposite bank some more, "...Although I don't have the stuffiest clue as to who the fiery banner is supposed to represent. I might have an inkling, but nothing concrete."

They had then managed to make it up the hill. Tyrion took that moment to glance back down to the river bank that was strewn with Reach dead that were being moved by their own captured Reachmen and then his eyes hovered from them to King's Landing.

He could feel a sense of proud accomplishment blossom deep within his being, _So this is victory?_ He thought to himself, _I rather like the feeling._ King's Landing had never seemed so beautiful in his life, with the Red Keep glistening atop Aegon's Hill from the early morning sun.

The sun itself had yet to peer itself fully from over the dawning horizon in the east. It made for a beautiful sight.

When he had last left, riders had been sent throughout the city to spread the message that they had won. He was sure by the time that he returned to the city, people would be waving and cheering and crying in gratefulness.

_But most of all, _Tyrion thought as he turned to face his nephew, his white hair flecked with black glistening in the early morning sun, _They will be cheering the name of their new king who also happened to be their saviour._ He made his way towards his nephew who had stopped to talk to someone. From what Tyrion could see, he was talking to a lordling, big across the chest with arms thick with muscle. He looked like he was capable of snapping the lanky prince in two with those arms and muscles of his.

"Good work Ser Balon." He heard Caspian say as he neared his side once more, "I knew you wouldn't fail me with this task."

The knight gave the prince a light bow at the hip, "I exist to serve, my prince."

"It's 'Your Grace'." Tyrion said as he chimed into the conversation, attracting the attention of his nephew and the knight. The knight seemed confused as he looked down at him, whilst his nephew had a slightly amused look about him.

"Excuse me, my lord?" The knight replied, a perplexed expression on his face.

Tyrion gave him a crooked, knowing smile, "It's not 'My Prince' anymore Ser Balon. You now have to refer to my darling nephew as 'His Grace'."

Ser Balon looked from him to Caspian, with the same expression still eschewed on his face, "I don't understand."

Caspian helped remedy that, "My brother is dead." He said bluntly as if he was talking about the weather, "By the looks of it, I'm going to be king. Isn't that fantastic?" He finished, a wry smile on his face.

Ser Balon was taken aback, "His Grace is dead? I'm sorry for your loss, my-Your Grace." He finished, quick to change to the proper way to address the newly-expectant but yet uncoronated king.

"It's fine." The prince said with a sigh, "My brother always did seem like the type of person that would go on to die young." He then looked around, "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find my uncle now would you Ser Balon?"

The knight gave a nod of his head before pointing in the direction of the kingswood, further down from the hill were many a tents were laid. Ser Balon was pointing to one of the larger tents arrayed in Tyrell colours of green and gold, "That tent there, Your Grace."

Caspian gave a nod of the head to the knight in thanks, "Thank you, Ser Balon." He said and motioned for Tyrion, "Come along uncle. Let's go meet Uncle Stannis."

Tyrion nearly faltered in his steps and he was sure his eyes would have bulged from their sockets, "Stannis?" He said quickly.

The prince gave a nod of his head, "Yeah. The other banners belong to him. It seems he's turned to the faith of R'Hllor. I never thought he would do it. I guess the Lady Melisandre is more capable than I thought."

Oh this wasn't good. This was not good at all. Stannis and Caspian meeting was the worst thing he could probably imagine right now. If Stannis was somehow capable of convincing Caspian that his siblings were actually bastard children the product of incest as he had claimed in his letters throughout the realm, then Cersei was going to lose her pretty, little head and so would Jaime.

He couldn't particularly give a damn about Cersei in the grand scheme of things, but he did particularly care for his older brother. Jaime had always been good to him when everyone else treated him like shit.

He had to find some way to stop the two from spending enough time so that Stannis could get his story across. It also didn't help that Caspian also had several doubts about his mother, no part thanks to Cersei's actions, especially the whole business with the bastards.

_She could have at least done it in a way that wouldn't attract attention._ He hated himself for thinking such a thought, but he couldn't help but think it. He blamed Cersei for this. If she had just done her duty as a wife and gave Robert trueborn children, then she could have continued fucking Jaime at the side for all he cared.

That had always been the problem with Cersei, she was never one to think things through. She liked to think herself their father's daughter, more along the lines of Tywin Lannister with teats and a cunt, but she could hardly fill the shoes that their lord father wore.

The only good thing that could come to mind about the whole thing was that Caspian was himself rather sceptical of the story. Why wouldn't he? He had been brought up under the Faith of the Seven, although nowhere near an ardent follower, he held the usual Westerosi aversion to a taboo such as incest.

He would need cold, hard evidence to be brought to believe that his mother and uncle had been fucking since their teenage years. But that brokered the question of what _if_ Stannis had the evidence to back up his claim?

His stomach was nought with worry and anxiety as they reached the tent and entered it.

The first person his eyes laid on was a woman of great beauty. She had a heart-shaped face and her hair was long and the colour of burnished copper and her skin was pale and unblemished. Her red dress did nothing to hide her full breasts and narrow waist and strangely, her eyes were red in colour with her lips also rouged.

He couldn't help but find his blood rushing and a stirring of his primal feelings come to mind as his eyes roamed over her body. He then saw the eyes and smile she cast him, _She knows._ He thought. She knew that he was watching her, _And dare I say, she knows I want to fuck her and hear her scream my name. _

It took some willpower on his part but he was able to look away from her and look at the other attendees in the tent. His eyes then laid rest to a slight man with brown hair and eyes, his beard peppered with grey.

Then his eyes laid on the man that held the biggest risk to the life of his brother if he could sway his nephew. Stannis Baratheon. Tyrion had always known that people towered over him, but he felt that feeling even more in the presence of the second son of the late lord Steffon Baratheon.

He gave the man who never seemed to smile, a smile of his own, "Lord Stannis," He said, gaining the man's attention as he looked at him, "Rather timely of you to join the fight to protect your nephew's crown. Running a little late though no?"

Stannis' jaw tightened as he spoke, "That boy is no nephew of mine."

_This is going to be difficult._ Tyrion thought as he cast a quick look in Caspian's direction who didn't seem to react at the way Stannis spoke. Sometimes he hated the fact that his nephew could never show his inner feelings whenever prompted, "Ah yes, I saw that little letter of yours. Cersei wasn't at all amused, accusing her of such a crime."

"I doubt she would be even less amused when she losses her head," Stannis replied, "Her and that brother of yours for their vile actions."

The temperature in the tent seemed to drop several degrees and become cooler and colder. Outside the tent, horses and men moved, shouting orders or instructions as they went about clearing the dead.

A slight breeze came through the tent flap, "Well then," His nephew suddenly spoke up, his voice holding some mirth in it, "If I didn't know any better, it would seem like you two are just raring to go at each other. I wish you wouldn't though. I doubt it would end prettily for one of you."

_Me, of course._ Tyrion thought as he continued to look up at Stannis, _This isn't the time to get defensive. I first have to know what he knows before doing anything and I definitely can't let Stannis be alone with Caspian for any period of time. Time to change the subject. _His eyes then drifted to the woman in red he had seen when he had first entered, "My apologies," He said as he gave a smile and bow at the woman, "I did not catch your name, my lady."

She smiled at him. Well, that was a first for Tyrion. Her smile didn't seem to be filled with the usual disgust most women looked at him with, the same went with her eyes. He couldn't see any revulsion or disgust in those burning red eyes of hers.

"You can call me Melisandre, Lord Tyrion." She said, that smile of hers still on her lips. Her eyes then trailed to his nephew, "Prince Caspian, you have certainly changed from when I last saw you."

Caspian merely looked at her with an easy smile on his lips, "Well, when I last saw you, you were naked and your breasts were juggling up and down as you rode my cock." He stopped for a moment to think about something before speaking once more, "Somewhat surprisingly, you are still by far the best lay I ever heard."

Tyrion's jaw dropped as he quickly looked from his nephew to the woman. So this was the red priest that had been taken in by Lady Selyse? Well, now he certainly wanted to know all the details, and he couldn't help but once again feel a sense of pride for his nephew.

The red woman still had that smile of hers on her face. It seemed to Tyrion that she was taking what he had said as a compliment. The only reaction he could see from Stannis was the fact that his jaw had tightened ever so much, more so than it already was.

Ser Davos' cheeks were aflame, "My lords, lady, I believe we have important matters to speak off."

Tyrion was slightly disappointed, he had wanted to see if his nephew and the priestess would go into further detail about their activities, but he would be sure to quickly move the conversation in a direction that _he_ wanted it to go, "Yes, yes we do." He said, stepping forward, "For starters, Lord Stannis, you can start by bending the knee and swearing fealty to your king."

He could practically hear the grinding of Stannis' teeth, "I will bend no knee to that false king."

_He doesn't know._ Tyrion almost smiled in glee, but he didn't. Instead, he allowed a small smile of knowing to come to his lips, "I'm surprised you would call Caspian a false king."

That seemed to catch him and Ser Davos unaware as they looked from him to Caspian. The red woman simply didn't change her expression as she continued to have that composed and calm look about her. Tyrion saw the way she looked, _She couldn't know, could she? _He shook away the thought. How could she know and the others not? They had only arrived on the battlefield when the Rush was aflame or sometime during that time.

"The boy Joffrey...?" Stannis asked, trailing off at the question.

Tyrion was rather surprised when the red woman spoke, "Gone. Your nephew is now king."

"_Going_ to be king." Caspian chimed in, "We all seem to be forgetting I haven't been coroneted yet."

Tyrion rolled his eyes as he waved his nephews words away, "It's the same thing. Either way, you are going to be king."

"If that is so," Stannis said, speaking up, "I have matters to talk about with you, Your Grace."

_Damn him, he's stubborn as a mule._ "I'm sure you do, Lord Stannis, but we still have a war to fight and I'm sure someone of your skills would be needed leading a host against the northmen and riverlande-."

"It's alright," Caspian suddenly said, cutting into the conversation, "I'll hear what my uncle has to say."

A thousand thoughts of panic whirled through Tyrion's head, but he was still able to keep himself composed and relaxed, "You will?"

Caspian nodded, "Yeah, better now rather than later."

Stannis' eyes drifted towards Tyrion, his eyes boring into him. Tyrion could see he mistrusted him, _He thinks I'll run off to Cersei or try and convince Caspian other wise of whatever he will tell him. _Well, Tyrion couldn't really say he was wrong. He would definitely do that.

"This matter is better spoken privily." The Lord of Dragonstone eventually said.

"Very well," Caspian said with a nod and led his uncle outside, "We shall talk privily then."

Tyrion could only watch with his heart literally in his throat. He could only hope against all hope nothing to damning would be said.

XxX

Tyrion had waited with abetted breath, waiting for Stannis and Caspian to return. He had tried to make conversation with Ser Davos and the red woman, but he had realised Ser Davos was guarded and wary around him and the red woman wasn't particularly interested in holding a conversation with him.

_What to do, what to do._ He thought furiously as his hands lay crossed in front of him. What could he do? When Caspian and Stannis returned, if he tried to inquire what they had spoken about, it would seem rather odd for him to inquire about such a thing, especially with the fact that the conversation that was being spoken was _private_.

As things went on, he couldn't help but think that it was probably best for Jaime to continue rotting in whatever dungeon the Starks and Tullys had placed in him. He stopped and thought about it, _On second thought, Jaime might as well be good and dead._ His value as a prisoner and a hostage would decrease dramatically if what he and Cersei had been up to became public knowledge, _Maybe I can somehow convince Caspian?_

He shook his head. It wouldn't work. Caspian was fair and just to everybody, and what Cersei and Jaime had been doing was punishable by the death. He couldn't help but muse morbidly how a king could lay with any number of women and get off without so much as a word but when a queen does lay with someone, it involves death, _...Then again, Cersei did seat a bastard on the throne. Even if she was allowed to lay with others, seating a bastard? That simply wasn't acceptable._

"You worry too much." The red woman said, bringing Tyrion out from the depths of his thoughts.

He looked at her, finding those red eyes of hers somewhat attractive, "Excuse me?"

She cast a look in his direction, her eyes boring into him. He felt uncomfortable underneath the gaze of the woman. Her eyes seemed to bore deep into his soul and bring out every tiny speck of dirty they could gather, "I said, you worry too much." She said, repeating the words she had first spoken, "Your brother is safe."

Tyrion's breath hitched within the confines of his throat, _She knew._ He didn't have to ask how she knew or how she had come to know, but something told him that she knew that Jaime and Cersei had a far deeper bond than that was normal for siblings.

He forced himself to give her a smile, a quick look cast in the direction of Ser Davos, "I don't really know what you mean."

Her deep red lips morphed into a smile, "That game is it? Very well, I shall play with you." She said, "Your brother is safe, no harm will come to him...for now at least. We all make our fates and one day, we'll be judged for the choices we have made. Your brother will meet that very same judge, soon, but not now."

Tyrion suddenly found himself less and less willing to fuck her and becoming more and more unnerved and uneased by her very presence, "Well, that's nice to know." He said casually, his tone also dismissing, _The less talked about this subject the better._

Tyrion had people enter the tent and turned around, ready to face whoever had come in, thinking it was his nephew and Stannis. He blinked when he noticed it was neither Stannis or Caspian. Actually, Stannis and Caspian had entered the tent, but they were not alone, with them came in Mace Tyrell who seemed to have an anxious look about him and Lady Catelyn who had an unreadable expression on his face.

His eyes then widened when he saw a very familiar face enter the tent, _Renly._ The youngest of the three Baratheon brothers had a very downcast expression on his face. He looked like a man who had lost a war and was walking towards the gallows...which he very well was doing or was going to be doing soon enough.

Tyrion cast his eyes away from the former would be king and waddled towards Caspian, "What's all this about then dearest nephew?" He asked when he reached Caspian's side, the young prince, no, king now standing on the other side of a table looking at the Lord of the Reach himself.

He cast a pensive look at Stannis who stood beside his nephew, his arms crossed over his chest and his face stern. Tyrion wondered what it was like to be on the other side of that deep blue gaze, that unwavering gaze that was judging all of them. He shivered, he hoped he would never be on the end of that gaze, but his eyes lingered to the red woman once again, _She knows._ Not just about Jaime or Cersei, but everything about him.

He just knew.

"Just getting their terms of surrender." His nephew replied succinctly enough, but Tyrion had known him long enough to know that there was something on his mind...and whatever was on his mind didn't feel him with any small measure of hope, "Right, shall we keep this brief? I imagine you have lands to take care off back in the Reach...what with the ironborn raiding from the north to the south." He said light-heartedly but that didn't seem to alleviate the atmosphere and the tension in the room, and Tyrion saw that Caspian had also noticed it, "Well...that didn't work out as well as I thought it would. Look, I'm not going to ask you what fit of madness overwhelmed you to try and place the _fifth _in line on the throne in front of the _other_ four."

His nephew turned to look at Lord Mace Tyrell, and he noticed for the first time that his nephew had lost his casual look and was giving the lord of Highgarden the same look he would expect his lord father to give him, "Frankly Lord Mace, I should strip you and your House of all your lands and incomes. I'm sure the Florents, the Rowans, the Oakhearts among others wouldn't mind replacing you." Tyrion would have smiled at the sheer aghast expression that overcame the man's face at the thought, _Lord Mace Tyrell..._ He mused, _The man who would go down in history as having destroyed House Tyrell._

"Y-You can't do that." Mace Tyrell squawked, "Only the king has the right to do that."

"Unfortunately or fortunately depending on who is asked," Caspian began to say, "King Joffrey, the First of His Name, is rather dead..." That seemed to shock the Reach lords, something Tyrion wondered if Caspian had set out to do, "...Probably. We'll find a body soon enough...if the wildfire didn't get to it first. So that means you are looking at your future king." He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, "Unfortunately, until me and my council comes up with the necessary punishment, I hope you and the rest of the other Reach lords we captured will find the Red Keep most accommodating, and as a measure of good will, I shall be sending Lord Stannis with the royal fleet to help you deal with the ironborn raiders, I'm sure the Redwynne fleet would find itself overtasked with defeating the entirety of the ironborn armada." That gained looks of surprise cast at Caspian's direction but he seemed to ignore it, "And I shall also dispatch a raven to Lord Buckler to help with the protection of your coasts."

The silence in the tent was palpable. It was only broken by the occasional sounds coming from outside the tent as well.

Eventually, Mace Tyrell went to a knee, "As you will, Your Grace."

"Get up," Caspian said, "You may very well hate me by the time I'm done thinking up of what to do with you all." He motioned at the guards at the tent opening, "Make sure that our guests arrive at the Red Keep safely and given the best rooms, including my uncle."

"Yes, m'lord." The guards said in sync before they lead out the Reach lords.

"Lady Catelyn if you could stay please." Caspian was quick to call out.

Tyrion was surprised to see Catelyn. He had nearly missed her standing within the tent, his thoughts taken elsewhere by the thought of Stannis and Caspian. He was wondering what she was doing here and then remembered that she had been with Renly before the start of the battle, when they had met to treat.

His mind was already working on what to do with such a valuable person within their custody. He went to talk to Caspian but a quick look from his nephew made the words die within his mouth. He found himself pleasantly surprised that his nephew was capable of forcing him to keep his mouth shut.

"Prince Caspian," Lady Catelyn said. Her lips thinned into a small, very unnoticeable smile, "Or is it King Caspian now?"

"I prefer Prince Caspian." His nephew replied easily enough, his tone far more relaxed and casual than the one he had used with the Reach lords, "I think it sounds better and rolls of the tongue better too."

Lady Catelyn seemed to think that the pleasantries had been said and done, "So what will be made of me?" She asked, her voice neutral. Tyrion couldn't tell what she was thinking, "A guest like my daughter Sansa?"

Caspian shook his head, "Honestly, I'm hoping by the end of this moon's turn Sansa will be back home in Winterfell."

That shocked Tyrion and so to did it shock Lady Catelyn, "I'm sorry?" She finally said, finding the words to speak.

The prince who was soon going to be the king ran a hand through his white hair that was freckled with black, "Robb listens to you. Can you pass a message to him? I want to meet him, for peace talks."

"Peace talks?" Lady Catelyn said the words slowly.

Tyrion watched his nephew nod his head, "Peace talks. Somewhere neutral, say the border of the Crownlands and the Riverlands."

Lady Catelyn gave him a look, "Why would you want to hold peace talks?"

"Because I would prefer having Robb alive than dead Lady Catelyn." Caspian said, once again, that stark bluntness of his making its appearance, "He's one of the only few people that I would call a friend. I'm sure our fathers wouldn't want to see us trying to kill each other."

The Lady of Winterfell bit her lip before speaking once more, "Very well, I shall deliver your message for you."

"Will you require an escort?" Caspian asked, "Or do you still have your original escort?"

"Some." She replied.

"Then you shall have more. You are the mother of a friend." Caspian said before turning to Stannis, "Could you see to that Uncle Stannis?"

Stannis gave a curt, firm nod of the head, "Very well."

Before she left, Lady Catelyn turned around to ask him a question, "You could very well send a raven, why send me?"

Caspian could only smile, "Robb has always been something of a mother's boy. I think he would be more than willing to hear me out if it came from his own mother, rather than a parchment of paper."

"And Sansa?" She asked, "Will you keep true to your word you will send her home?"

Caspian gave a firm nod of the head, "Of course. My brother left me with the task of rebuilding the relationships of the kingdoms back from this dismal state. Sending Sansa home would be the best course of action to just do that."

Lady Catelyn could only nod her head before leaving. Before he noticed it, Tyrion was left in the tent alone with his nephew. He looked up at Caspian, "You are actually going to send the Stark girl home?"

Caspian took a seat and sighed, "Yes. I know what you want to say uncle, I know, but just trust me on this."

Tyrion bit his lip, "Your grandfather would think you soft if you let the rebels off lightly."

"I don't plan on letting them off lightly." His nephew replied, "I also have to think of other matters to you know? Unlike Joffrey, I plan to take my duties as king seriously." He looked to the side with a thoughtful look in his eyes, "I should probably send Tommen to be fostered by grandfather or someone else capable."

"Your mother won't like that." Tyrion said, but he knew that now with Caspian king, Tywin could very well take Tommen as a ward and heir to Casterly Rock. The thought that his lord father would soon rather leave Casterly Rock in the hands of a one-and-ten year old child left him a bitter taste in his mouth, "You know how she is."

He waved dismissively at him, "I'll deal with it when it comes to it." He said. They stayed silent for a few moments before speaking once more, "Say uncle..."

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't lie to me would you?"

The question made Tyrion's heart skip a beat, "Of course not. You're my favourite nephew, why would I lie to you? What's all this about Caspian?"

Tyrion thought his nephew had cast a quick look in his direction, but he wasn't certain. Maybe it had been the light playing tricks.

Caspian eventually sighed as he rose from the seat, "No, it's nothing. I think the fact that I'm going to be king is actually starting to come to the forefront of my mind." He said as he began to make for the exit of the tent.

Tyrion waddled in step with his nephew, grateful that it was now instinctual for the young man that he would slow his steps whenever it came to walking with his uncle, "You'll be fine Caspian. You have the right temperament for it. And a working brain to go along with it."

"I hope so uncle," Caspian said slowly, "I hope so."

XxX

Sansa

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Sansa. The Red Keep and most likely King's Landing had been dominated with two facts of news.

Joffrey was dead.

And Caspian was to be king.

The bells had rung for an entire day when the news that Joffrey was dead had been told to the city. Their were many a stories as to how he died, some more ridiculous than others. Some say that he died bravely fighting against Renly's soldiers, felling many a soldiers before he was cut down himself.

Others said that he led a heroic sortie into the midst of enemy forces from one of the other gates to attack the flank of Renly's soldiers and stop them from battering the River Gate with a ram. All of those stories made Sansa want to laugh.

She couldn't see or imagine Joffrey doing any of those things. He had always hidden behind those white cloaks of his. The only person that knew the truth would have been the surviving soldiers but she couldn't very well ask them.

She could have asked Caspian, but the prince, no, king couldn't be found anywhere. He was still in the Red Keep that was for certain. He showed himself whenever he had to attend the plannings for his coronation, but for the rest of the time, he was completely unaccounted for.

The queen had also been disappearing of late. Whenever she saw the queen, she always wore black, clothes of mourning. She had worn black too, especially on the day when they laid an empty tomb into the Great Sept of Baelor. Joffrey becoming the first of the Baratheon line of kings to be laid there.

The tomb had been empty. They couldn't find the king's body. There were many a reasons why, some thought that the body had been burnt to a degree that it became undistinguishable. It was said that some of the bodies burned by the wildifre were black as charcoal and others had been melted in puddles of goo, or the body had been washed away by the Blackwater.

Since the body couldn't be found, the tomb had to be laid empty into the crypt. The queen had wanted _her_ son's bones or body to be laid in the tomb. Since they couldn't be found, the tomb had been encrypted empty.

She wandered into the godswood at night, looking up at the starry sky above, _I wonder if Caspian will allow me to go back home?_ She thought to herself. She wanted to think Caspian would be kind enough to do that for her. For their friendship, for the time they had been...connected together. That brought her to a stop and a frown to come across her face, _...Maybe he'll make me stay at the Red Keep to be his mistress? Aegon IV had done as such._ She remembered a hostage that had been brought to King's Landing by Aegon IV, Cassela Vaith.

In the history books, it was said Aegon kept Cassella a 'hostage' within his own chambers, _Is that what awaits me?_ She tried to banish away the thoughts. Caspian wouldn't do that, would he? She was unsure.

Her own feelings on the matter seemed to be confused at the subject. On one hand, after everything Joffrey had put her through, she wanted to be home in Winterfell, court-life had not been as glorious as she thought it would be.

And on the other, Caspian had been kind and gentle to her. Protected her from both his mother and brother and she had found herself thinking about him occasionally. Even more during the battle.

A note of music reached her ears, causing her to startle in alert. She looked around before straining her ears before she picked up the quiet sounds of music being played, _Is that a...harp?_ She thought. She found herself following the music.

She was curious, apart from her meetings with Ser Dontos, she had yet to meet anyone that ever came to the godswood. She seemed to be the only person in the Red Keep that prayed to the old gods as well as the new ones.

That, and the music was rather nice to listen too.

She rounded one of the trees in the godswood and stopped in her tracks when she noticed who it was, "Caspian?" She called out unintentionally.

She seemed to have startled the prince who snapped his head in her direction, dropping the small harp that had been in his hands, "Sansa..." He said slowly when he took her in, "What are you doing here?"

She made her way towards him, cautiously. The thoughts from before still lingering in her mind, "Shouldn't I be the one asking that?" She returned, "You follow the new gods."

The king-_No, prince. He hasn't been coroneted yet-_prince, gave her a queer expression, "That I do. But I like coming here, it's quiet and peaceful. That, and the fact that no-one hardly ever comes here. There aren't many who follow the old gods in King's Landing, let alone this far south. I like to come here so I can be alone." He looked at her, his blue eye looked deeper than before his lilac eye seemed to almost glow in the moonlight, "Are you just going to stand there?" He asked as he patted at the spot beside him, "Come, sit."

She thought about it, before she made her way towards him, "You are going to be king." She blurted out suddenly as she took a seat beside him.

A hollow laugh came from his mouth, "Yes, I suppose I am, aren't I? I do wonder if that's a good or a bad thing."

"You can't be any worse than Joffrey." She said without thought, before quickly covering her mouth, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any-."

Caspian stopped her, "It's alright. I doubt I can be worse than Joffrey, that's true."

The two allowed a comfortable silence to come over them, but Sansa couldn't let it last, "What will become of me?"

Caspian cast a quick, furtive glance in her direction, "If all goes well, you shall be back in Winterfell soon enough."

Sansa could not have turned to look at him any faster, "Really?"

He nodded, "Really. I plan to hold peace talks with Robb, come to some sort of peace between us."

A gust of wind blew through the godswood, sweeping her hair to the side and that of Caspian's. She had noticed it before, but the she found his hair colour now rather odd and strange to look at but it served to give him some sort of appeal.

He noticed her looking at him, "What is it? Something on face?"

She moved a lock of hair from his eye and tucked it behind his ear, "No, it's nothing." She said softly.

Caspian clasped her hand and brought her in close for a kiss. The next moments where a whirlwind for Sansa. She remembered Caspian dexterously opening her bodice to allow her still going breasts to spill out from their confines, before pulling up her skirts.

She must have wanted him just as mush as he wanted her as she had worked to unlace his breeches. She then soon found herself leaning forward onto one of the trees of the godswood with Caspian thrusting into her from behind.

She should have felt ashamed at doing such an activity within a holy place like a godswood, but she told herself that King's Landing godswood wasn't a proper godswood. It didn't have a weirwood and she soon found out that fact they were having relations in an open, public space were anyone could find them was thrilling and excited her ever more.

It had been a challenge to keep her moans of pleasure low in volume. Caspian knew what made her tick, what pleasured her, what didn't. Whether it be the massaging of her breasts or her lower lips whilst he thrust into her, or soft tender kisses onto her nape and neck.

Caspian had spilled his seed inside her three times that night.

XxX

Cersei

"Black looks horrible on you." Tyrion said, "With your fair skin, it makes you far too pale."

Cersei frowned at her dwarf brother, making sure she showed all the disdain she felt about him showed, "What do you want Tyrion?" She should never have opened the door.

Tyrion gave her one of those crooked smiles of his. Those ugly smiles that made her shiver, "I thought you should know that Stannis had a nice little bonding session with Caspian."

Her eyes widened in alarm, "What? When?" She hissed, "What lies did that fool tell my son?"

Tyrion quirked an eyebrow in amusement, "Lies? I _am_ rather sure that Stannis' lies are actually truths. You are fucking Jaime no? Or is there another golden haired Lannister that looks like Jaime I have yet to meet?"

Cersei reached out a hand and slapped him hard across the face, "I don't have the time to deal with your vile games Tyrion. My son is dead, if you have nothing better to do, let me grieve for him."

The words hurt to say. She had yet to still come to accept Joffrey's death. There may still be hope yet. Her golden lion's body could not be found. He may still be alive.

She had to hold out hope. The gods couldn't be so cruel to take away such a strong lion from this world before his time.

That night, when the Blackwater Rush was on fire, when she had seen the helmet, she had grieved and cried. She had taken Osney Kettleblack into her bed, to replace the pain and grief with the pleasure of the flesh.

Osney had been disappointing. If it had been Jaime, she knew he would have been able to make her forget, for he would also grieve with her for their child and would also want to abate the pain, even a little.

Tyrion still had that smile on his face as he rubbed his cheek, "My apologies. I thought telling you that Stannis telling Caspian about you and Jaime would be some rather particularly important news."

She pursed her lips before speaking to the vile dwarf, "What became of it?"

Tyrion gave her a shrug, "I do not know." He said, "Whatever Stannis told him, he does not tell me. I've tried, but the boy is insightful enough to know my intentions and divert the subject. I've stopped since then, if I keep going any harder, he will have reason to suspect me, if he already doesn't."

Cersei found herself chewing her lip in thought, "If he knew the truth, I would be in the black cells already."

Tyrion nodded in agreement with her, "I believe that as well. Most likely, I think Stannis told him of his thoughts, but he didn't have an evidence to back up his claims." A wry smile came across the Imp's features, "At least we can count on the fact that Caspian doesn't act unless there is overwhelming evidence. So I ask this, is there overwhelming evidence? If not, we can just say that your three bastards inherited your features instead of Robert's."Cerse hissed at him in warning, but Tyrion did not seem afraid. He only shrugged his shoulders, "That's what they are Cersei. Bastards. Did they come from Robert's seed? No? I didn't think so."

She wanted to slap him again for his insolence, but she controlled herself before bringing up a hand to her head and began rub her temple. Her eyes narrowed in thought, "A book or so." She finally said, "That is the only thing I can think off."

"A book, you say?" Tyrion repeated, "And what does this book contain that could incriminate you?"

Cersei gave him a shrug, "I don't know. You would have to ask Pycelle. It's some kind of book that keeps track of all the lineages of the Houses of Westeros." She then saw her brother's eyes rise up in alarm and Cersei couldn't help but find herself somewhat worried, "What is it?"

Tyrion quickly hopped to his feet, "Come with me. I must see this book for myself. So should you."

He didn't wait for her to reply. The sheer insolence that was needed to make her, _the _queen of the Seven Kingdoms follow _him_ was too large to ignore, but she knew that it was pointless to worry about that at the moment. The current situation was of more importance but she was going to make sure Tyrion got his due.

She followed him through the hallways of the Red Keep in silence. Some of the many rooms of the Keep had been taken by the captured lords of the Reach that included the likes of Ser Loras Tyrell, the lord oaf of Highgarden himself, Mace Tyrell, Mathis Rowan among many others. She had wanted the traitor Renly to be put into the black cells, but instead, Caspian had commanded he be put into a tower cell instead.

This wasn't good.

Caspian was too soft. If it had been Joffrey, he would have sent that vile traitor Renly, him and his compatriots into the black cells and have Renly's head by dawn. But Caspian kept them alive and well treated.

How was he going to rule the Seven Kingdoms if he was going to be soft? It would be like the rule of Tytos Lannister all over again. His vassals would laugh at him.

_Did grandfather not teach him anything during his time with him?_ Caspian should know that it was better to be feared than loved. Fear brought loyalty and respect.

She would have to teach him the proper way to rule. He was still five-and-ten. Still a child by the laws of the realm and not yet a man. Whilst she is regent, she would show him how to rule.

But yet, she still held out hope. Hope that her golden lion was still alive. Her lion who had taken her teachings too heart, and until he could be found, she would teach Caspian how to properly rule the kingdoms.

They eventually reached the Grand Maester's quarters and offices. They had, had to wait for a while before the old man eventually opened his door. A look of disgust had come across Cersei's features when she had smelled the odour that was on his persons.

She almost felt sorry for whatever whore that had to lie with him.

"Your Grace?" Pycelle said in surprise, "Lord Tyrion? How can I help you, so late at night?"

Tyrion was the one to answer, apparently not at all disgusted or reviled by the sight, _Then again, whores have to lie with that ugly being. They should be brothers, not him and I._ "Apparently, you have a book that me and the queen would ever be so interested in reading." Her vile brother said.

Pycelle blinked down at him, "I don't understand, my lord."

Cersei wanted this to be over and done with, "The book that Ned Stark and Jon Arryn loaned from you. Do you have it or not Pycelle?" She asked impatiently.

The old man's eyes widened ever so much, "Ah yes, that book. I do so in fact have it, Your Grace." He motioned them in, "This way if you please."

Cersei had to scrunch up her nose at the smell. She had to wonder how such an old man was able to keep his cock working and how his heart had yet to give out, _Then again, Ossifer Plumm was of the same age...or was he older?_

Pycelle led them to his office before going onto a book shelf. He hefted off a massive book off the book shelf and his legs wobbled as he carried it to the desk and dropped it with a heavy thud, "Here it is, Your Grace, my lord." He said as he turned to face the two of them.

Tyrion waved him away, "Thank you ever so much, Pycelle. You can go back to your whore now." Pycelle's face became aflame before he quickly made his way out of the office. Tyrion waddled that waddle of his to the desk and lifted himself onto a chair and began to flip through the pages, "This looks like a rather toilsome read to be honest. Why anyone would read this is beyond me."

Cersei made her way to the edge of the desk, "Well?" She said, "What could be so threatening about this book?" Jon Arryn and Ned Stark had read it. Clearly something within its boundaries must give some sort of clue or evidence that damned her.

"Give me a moment." Tyrion said, his stubby hand trailing down the lineages of House Baratheon.

Cersei found herself growing impatient as her younger brother continued to read the book to himself. She could be doing much better things with her time, "Find anything yet? I have things to do."

Tyrion held up one stubby finger, gesturing her to wait a moment before he suddenly spoke, "Oh well now, this is interesting."

She moved around the table to stand beside him, "What is?" She asked, looking down at the book.

A stubby finger tapped on one of the lines of the book, "This. What does this say?"

She looked at the book, squinting her eyes to make sure she read the words carefully in the lowlight, "Gowen Baratheon married Tya Lannister. One child, black hair, blue eyes." She raised her head away, "What is that supposed to tell me?"

She could feel Tyrion roll his eyes derisively, "Every Baratheon born has always had black hair and blue eyes." He told her, "Not many Lannisters have married into the Baratheon line, but for those that did, they all bore black haired and blue eyed children." He then flipped the page, moving his hand towards the most recent addition, Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, "And then we come to you and Robert, see anything amiss?"

Cersei looked at the book and could see what Tyrion was pointing out to her, "We have to destroy the book." There was no other way to stop this from being learned.

Tyrion scoffed, "And what if Caspian learns of the book and comes in search of it? Only to learn that it had 'mysteriously' been destroyed? That would give him more reason to be suspicious."

"Then what would you have me do?" Cersei hissed at him. She could feel herself starting to panic.

"For starters, I think we ask Pycelle to see if he can alter the book. Make some slight changes to the Baratheon line to make it seem like some of them bore traits of their parents. I'm sure he can do that, either that, or have him rewrite this whole book from scratch and make him make the changes."

"And what else?"

Tyrion gave her a long hard look. She could see that he also held a pained expression in his mismatched eyes, "This is...hard for me and even harder for you I'm sure. But you will have to release Jaime from his duties as Kingsguard, so that father will sent him to Casterly Rock when this is all over and he is returned to us."

Cersei looked at him dumbfounded in shock. Her wits then returned to her quickly like a sudden storm, "You would have us apart!?" No, she would not have it. Jaime and her were one. They could not bare to be away from each other.

"That," Tyrion began calmly, "Or have him around, around long enough for Caspian to note that Joffrey and Tommen look a bit too much _like_ their uncle. And let's not forget that he's also knowledgeable of some of his father's bastards, Mya Stone and Edric Storm. He's eventually going to connect the dots. This might be difficult for you, but you have to sent Jaime away. For both of you."

Cersei shook her head, "No. Jaime's place is here. With me."

Tyrion grinded his teeth, "You are going to get yourselves killed then!"

"And why do you care?"

"For you? Not a single damn." Tyrion was quick to reply, angrily, "But for Jaime? The world." He dropped down from the chair he had been standing on and made for the door, "Think over this quickly Cersei. If Jaime learns that Caspian is close to knowing your secret, he will try to kill him. And honestly? They might end up both killing each other. Caspian is _his _father's son. Someone not to be trifled with in combat. And if people were to learn that Jaime killed another king?" He shrugged as he placed a hand on the door knob, "Then there is no helping him. It will be death for him." With that, he left, leaving Cersei to her thoughts.

* * *

**AN: Right, I'm having a bit of a dilemma. See, the thing is, I have a lot of things planned out for the story and to make it somewhat realistic, I'll need a longer time frame than the one GRRM has given us. That and the fact that the Wind of Winter hasn't been released yet and with the rate I'm going, I'll probably be hitting ADWD soon, I plan on tweaking the date a little bit, like making the war of the five kings start earlier and be resolved earlier to give me time to put in some original story, canon diversion into play or maybe push winter back so it doesn't happen until way later instead of the year 300AL.**

**That's why I need your help with this boys and girls.**

**Should I tweak the dates back, or push winter forward? I am rather confident that you will all have a liking for the original plot story I have planned that would take place during this new 'blank period', a little glimpse it will involve war, politics and quite a number of changes to the whole of Westeros.**

**I wouldn't have to do this if only GRRM had actually done a five year time skip in his books like he had once thought of doing. That would have given me a lot of leeway to work my magic. So how about it boys &amp; girls, thoughts, ideas, anything?**

**Leave a review or a pm or check out my page. I'm going to make a poll and leave it to you guys to decide. It doesn't matter what you guys choose, I'll still be able to work in my story.**

**TheForeverKing**


	15. Chapter 15

**Saint River: One of Caspian's personality quirks is that he can be surprisingly blunt with his words at strange moments. He can be as subtle as the next guy, but when he feels like it, he just has to be bloody blunt like a sledgehammer on certain things.**

**Iskandar06: Two-Three years actually or somewhere around there, but I see what you are saying, and I like it.**

**Trap3r: I would be surprised if GRRM is still alive to actually publish A Time For Wolves/A Dream of Spring with the rate he's going.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/ASOIAF_

* * *

Caspian

It had hit him like a sudden storm, that Caspian had to blink several times to make sure that he was not dreaming, and lo and behold, he was not, _This is actually happening._ He stood in his chambers, a tailor moving around him as he placed articles of clothing on his persons as he stared into a large looking glass that was taller than him by several inches and wider to show his entire lanky frame, _This is actually happening._ He thought once more.

Much to his chagrin and ire, his hair had been looked to, and it had now lost its usual, wild, unkempt manner that he loved wearing it in and instead, it was done smartly, but it didn't feel like him. Even the clothes he was being made to wear didn't feel like him.

"At least you will stop looking like you had been dragged from the streets." His dear lady mother had said when the tailor had placed the clothes out for him. She could have been nicer with the way she said it, he still dressed nicely enough, it's just he never particularly cared about his appearance. He always put on clothes that he found or were given to him.

"There," The tailor said as he moved to the side, a pleased smile upon his features, his hands held together in front of him, "It is done, Your Grace."

Caspian examined himself in the looking glass in front of him. He wore the colours of his House, black and gold and for once, he actually paid homage to his mother's House. On the left breast of his black tunic was a roaring golden lion facing a prancing stag on the opposite breast and hanging onto one shoulder was a Lannister crimson cloak.

The cloak was a bit too much. He had never been particularly interested in wearing them. He always saw them as a safety hazard, even in battle. Someone could very well pull on them to drag him back and put a sword through his back.

"I look..." Caspian trailed off to find the words.

His mother had the words thought as she clasped her hands together, "Lovely." She said as she walked to him, placing her hands on his shoulders to smooth out any wrinkles that she thought she saw, "Like a king."

Once again, the thought came to the forefront of his mind, _This _is _actually happening_. He had never felt scared in his life. Ever. He had always faced every fear of his with a smile on his face, ever since his now dearly departed brother tried to scare him into thinking that the ghost of the Mad King haunted the halls, corridors and passage ways of the Red Keep.

"You best be careful," He remembered Joffrey saying to him, with that boyish voice of his. Even his voice back then grated ever on his nerves, "I hear him mumbling about how he likes them young."

Joffrey had never been one to think things through, so Caspian had easily retorted that he was young to and could be a victim for the ghost of the Mad King. His face had lost some colour as he had tried to stammer up some defence, "He wouldn't come after me." He had said.

"Why?" He remembered asking, at the time, his voice and expression dry. He remembered that he had been due a training session in arms with Ser Barristan and Joffrey had been cutting into that time.

His brother had put on this annoying smile of superiority, "Because he wouldn't harm me, the future king of Westeros." Even back then, he had been completely self-confident in his own abilities or whatever he passed off as his abilities.

At that, Caspian had just walked. He couldn't even found it within himself to point out the several flaws in what he had just told him. Although, later on that night, Caspian had gone to bed with a dagger in hand and when he had heard some suspicious noises coming from outside his room, he had been quick to grab the dagger and hide under his bed blankets.

He remembered that he had not slept for several hours that night, before finally deciding to face the ghost of the 'Mad King'. He had soon learned that had been an exercise in futility and although he would admit that he got something out of it by finding one of the secret passageways of the Red Keep.

But that was a completely different memory for another time.

"Anyone with fine clothes can look like a king." Caspian said as he fidgeted with the cloak on his shoulder, "Do I have to wear this thing?" Wasn't the lion enough? He didn't want to wear the cloak. It seemed absurd.

"Yes." His mother was quick to say, a smile on that beautiful face of hers. He could see some sadness within that face, especially in her eyes and the smile itself, _She's thinking of Joffrey._ "It will be only for the ceremony. Then you can go back to wearing black like you usually do. You always seem as if you're going to a funeral or in mourning."

"I don't always wear black." He went to tussle his hair but his mother was quick to slap the hand back down, "I sometimes wear gold too."

"Droll." Cersei said, "Very droll."

"I like to think myself funnier than Moon Boy."

"Then maybe we should have you tailored a costume made of motley. You would very much like that wouldn't you?"

"Ooh, can we? Please mother, can we? That would ever be so much fun."

His mother rolled her eyes. She began to lead him towards the door, "Come along now, the ceremony is soon."

_Oh right, _Caspian thought as he followed his mother out of his chambers and into the corridors of the Red Keep, _This is actually happening._ Was it too late for him to abdicate and pass the throne over to Tommen? Unbidden, his eyes glanced over to his mother, _She would love that._

She never really made her feelings known about the subject or the issue, but Caspian was of the mind that his dear lady mother would prefer to see his younger brother take the Iron Throne rather than him. She never voiced her opinion on the matter, but he had come to see it whenever the subject of his coronation and ascension to the Iron Throne had been brought up in recent days.

Whenever the words 'Caspian', 'King', and 'Iron Throne' were put into the same sentence. Her face had a certain subtle tightness to it, when she smiled, there was a strain to the smile and the smile never reached her eyes, nor did they sparkle or gleam in the same manner that they did when Joffrey was on the throne.

He could have attributed all this things to still being in mourning over Joffrey's death. His older brother had only been dead for several days now, but his conversation with his Uncle Stannis always kept coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are not your father's children." Stannis had said, in the shadow of a large oak tree that overlooked the bank of the Rush that day.

"Yes, I know." Caspian had replied, "Your letter said as much."

"Then you should know who their real father is."

"Uncle Jaime, once again, your letter said as much." Caspian had said once more, "And where is your evidence Uncle? Even if you tell me this, you are the one who taught me that I should always be sure and just when judging a crime. For that, I need evidence."

His uncle's jaw had tightened ever so much before he had spoken once more, clearly remembering saying those very words to him some time in the past, "You are my evidence. You and that bastard brother of yours, Edric."

Caspian remembered quirking an eyebrow, "Because we look like our lord father? That's hardly enough to go by Uncle. Sometimes, children take on the features of one of their parents or both."

It seemed as if his words had angered his uncle in some way, "Ned Stark died finding out this truth."

Caspian's had felt his eyes widen ever so slightly, "He died because of this?"

Stannis had nodded his head, "Him and Jon Arryn I am sure. Jon had been investigating the matter for me in secret when I brought my suspicions to him. I suspect your mother learned about his intentions soon enough and had him silenced."

He had stayed quiet, thinking things over. His mother had Jon Arryn killed? '_The seed is strong.'_ He remembered him saying. Suddenly, what he had been muttering was almost seemingly starting to make sense, but he couldn't rely on the words of a dead man in a court, "That's a lot to take in uncle. But all you are giving me is circumstantial evidence. The word of one person against another, I can't do anything with that. You know that." He had turned to look in the direction of King's Landing, "...But I will look into it. I can't really say I haven't had doubts about my mother's actions lately."

"That's all I ask for." Stannis had said, relenting.

Caspian had then turned to look at his uncle, "You do realise that King's Landing isn't exactly the safest of places to be for you now is it?"

The man had gave him a curt nod of the head, "I am no fool. Your mother would have me killed the moment I step into the city. I shall instead lead the Royal Fleet against the ironborn in the west."

_Argh, I don't want to be dealing with this as of now._ Caspian was rather sure that even if investigated the matter, he was of the mind that he won't be able to gather any evidence, _Mother had made sure of that._ If his father's seed was truly strong, then the most primary evidence would have been his father's bastard children and he only knew of two of them, Edric and Mya, but that could be easily argued against.

The more thought about it, the more it became abundantly clear that if he was to prove his mother's supposed infidelity, he would supposedly have to catch her and her supposed lover in her own twin in the act.

The thought churned his stomach.

_So I have to find someone to follow my mother?_ That seemed to be the case, but not at the moment. It would be rather pointless having someone follow his mother when the supposed person she-he staved off a shudder-is _supposedly_ fucking still in captivity in Riverrun, _Whilst waiting for that, I wonder how Jon and Ned came to the conclusion that my mother and uncle were...fucking? There must be something or did someone tell them?_

The eunuch immediately came to mind. If a person wanted to know something about someone, the master of whisperers was the person to ask. Varys seemed to know just about damn anything but he was reluctant to go to the eunuch. He doubted he would learn anything, and the man himself might go running to his lady mother.

_And I haven't even brought in grandfather into this whole equation._ Caspian would be one to admit that his grandfather was one of the reasons as to why he was so adamantly looking for proof into the allegations into his lady mother. If he just arrested his lady mother without proof, he was sure his grandfather would make him or the realm pay one way or another, _Like calling in that three million gold dragon loan. _At the troubles that seemingly awaited him the moment he took to the throne, Caspian wanted to just give up and pass it onto Tommen.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there?" Cersei asked.

_Whether the rumours are true or not, that and a load of other issues._ He wanted to say but thought better of it, "All the trouble that I am have to go deal with whilst being king, mother."

His mother laughed, an airy laugh that was as melodious as a hundred soft bells ringing, "You could always abdicate." She said half-heartedly.

_And you would just love that wouldn't you mother?_ He was quite sure that his mother had meant it in a light-hearted and jesting manner, but he could detect a hint of hopefulness somewhere within her voice. He just cast her a wry smile, "And let Tommen deal with everything? I think not. My hair has already lost its colour, I wouldn't want to do the same to little Tommen."

A fleeting expression of disappointment flashed across her eyes, "Yes. Tommen is rather gentle soul isn't he?"

They soon found themselves standing in front of the great wooden doors that led into the throne room. Standing in front of the doors was his uncle Tyrion who smiled at him, "Ah there he is, King Caspian, the First of His Name. Took your time coming didn't you? The throne room is already full with guests here to witness your coronation."

Caspian worked at his buttons, "Mother wanted me to look my best."

His uncle cast him a crooked smile, "Your mother does _know_ best." He heard Cersei scoff and that just made his uncle's smile even wider, "So how are you feeling? Nervous? Scared? You are not going to run out of the throne whilst in the middle of the ceremony, no?"

"Just some pre-coronation jitters, I suppose." He admitted to his uncle. Tyrion had always been one of the few people that he could speak easily with, "My head is finally wrapping around this whole thing that I'm going to be king in just a few short hours."

Tyrion waddled his way next to him and tapped at his thigh, smiling up at him, "Worry not my boy. You have the right temperament for a king, a good head on your shoulders. Some would even say you were _born_ for the throne."

Caspian thought he saw his mother cast a dirty look in the direction of Tyrion, but he must have imagined it for when he blinked, the look was gone, "But I wasn't now was it?"

His uncle nearly snorted but stopped himself short, "Your brother did always seem eager to die young. He at least died with a bang, courtesy of you of course, but that's neither here nor there."

His eyes glanced towards his mother and saw the expression of hurt across her fair features, "Come now uncle," Caspian said as he made his way towards the door. He stopped and took in a deep breath of air, "This is not the time to talk about Joffrey." _We can do that later._ Was the hidden message to his uncle which he saw he had understood and took.

Caspian looked at the steward and gave a nod of the head. The steward went to push open the giant doors and Caspian took in a deep breath of air, _Come on, you can do this. You have faced off against the Red Viper of Dorne. What could be so scary about having to wear a stupid gold crown on your head?_

When the doors had creaked that whiny sound of theirs as they opened, Caspian knew that all eyes were on him from the assembled nobles who had come to witness his coronation. The throne room had been decorated for the event in the black and gold colours of House Baratheon, but for posterity's sake, their was also the crimson and gold colours of his mother's House.

Caspian had never known that a ceremony that only included placing a crown onto his head took ever so long. He had sat upon the Iron Throne for what seemed like hours before the fat High Septon eventually decided it was time to place the crown atop his head.

"May the Warrior grant him courage, and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength, so that he may bear this heavy burden. May the Crone, she who knows the fate of all men, show him the path that he must walk, and guide him in the dark that lies ahead. May the Maiden grant him kindness, and the will to protect the innocent. May the Mother grant him mercy, in the face of all those who would oppose him. May the Father grant him justice, and the power to rule these lands. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Caspian, of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." Caspian felt the gold crown placed onto his head, although it was lighter than any helmet he had worn, it felt heavy atop his head. The High Septon then went on to make his final proclamation, "Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" Came the thunderous echo from the assembled lords, ladies, knights and others that were present for his coronation. He saw familiar faces in the crowd, Petyr Baelish, his mother, his uncle, Varys, Pycelle, among others that he could put a name and a face too.

When he had a sickly cough coming from somewhere in the throne room, he didn't need to guess that it belonged to Lord Giles Rosby. He was still surprised that the man had yet to keel over dead with the amount of time he's had that sickly cough of his.

He felt like adjusting the crown atop his head, but instead, he took a step back and took the seat that signified him as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, _The kingdoms that aren't in open rebellion of course._ Caspian mused wryly. Even now, it was still as uncomfortable as he thought it was back when he was a kid when Robert had allowed him to seat on it.

After that, hours passed as the lords, ladies and knights in the hall lined up to sweat allegiance to him. As if the ceremony hadn't been long enough, at the end of the day, he was just glad this was finally over and done with.

XxX

Caspian sat in his seat in the small council chambers. In the room chambers along with him was his mother, the queen regent, his uncle, the serving hand of the king and to the side was a man who was long and thin with an equally long moustache wearing an attire that wasn't native to Westeros.

Opposite the desk and withering underneath the stare of Caspian was the captured Lord Mace Tyrell. Caspian decided it was probably time that he talked to the man, he was sure if he stared at him anymore, he would wither and die or lose control of his bowls.

He gave the Lord of Highgarden a disarming smile, "Lord Mace, let's keep this brief. I don't want to keep you here for long, I'm sure that you have matters to attend to back in Highgarden and the Reach." He leaned ever so slightly onto the desk in front of him, "I'm sorry for the delay, but I already had an inkling of your punishment drawn up the moment I heard you raised your banners for my uncle. It just took some time to get all the details into order."

Caspian waved at the man with the purple hat who stepped forward, "Like I said before, I had half a mind to strip you of Highgarden and give it to someone else, but I thought better of it. Instead, my terms are rather simple compared to the terms most treasonous elements receive."

Lord Mace seemed to be sweating like a pig in heat as he swallowed thickly, "What are the terms, Your Grace?"

Caspian continued to give him a disarming smile, "Firstly, whatever debts the Crown owed you are now forgiven. Secondly, you shall also adopt a million gold dragons of debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos," He said as he indicated with his head to the man, "Lord Tycho has all the necessary paperwork and details drawn up, and lastly, for the next ten years, the Reach shall see a ten percent increase in taxes."

That seemed to cause the man to gape, "Ten percent increase?"

Caspian nodded, "Before you argue, it could very well be twenty percent, thirty, fourty...and on and on. I am sure you get the gist of what I am trying to tell you, Lord Mace." He gave him a cool, even look, "So will you accept or will I have to call back my uncle and tell him to turn his fleet around and leave you to the mercies of the ironborn? Last I learned, they control the Shield Islands now...doesn't that mean Highgarden is vulnerable? It would be a shame if you were remembered as the man who allowed Highgarden to be sacked and pillaged."

Lord Mace's eyes widened, "I'll accept the terms, Your Grace."

Caspian could only just smile, "Lord Tycho if you could."

The banker merely gave a small smile in the direction of Caspian as he set the ledger down, "I am no lord, Your Grace. Just a humble worker of the Iron Bank." He passed the ledger to Lord Mace, along with some hot wax, ink and quill, "As His Grace has stated, all the paperwork has been drawn up. All you have to do Lord Mace is sign."

Lord Mace picked up the quill but before he could sign, Caspian snapped his fingers, "Oh yes, before I forget, Lady Margaery will have to come to the Red Keep and as a member of the King's Court." He wasn't one for taking hostages, but in this case it had to be done. The Reach was needed for the coming future. Especially if the Targaryen in the east decided to come and try to reclaim the Iron Throne, _I'll also have to do something about that throne anyway. Remove her claim from it and turn the people against her._ He already had some ideas swimming around in his head, but they needed time to blossom.

Lord Mace's face fell at the news before he begrudgingly accepted the terms, "As you will, Your Grace."

Caspian noted his expression and tone, "Don't take this the wrong way Lord Mace. No harm will come to her. She can bring along companions if she so wishes, and say...a company of a hundred or so guardsmen for the protection for herself and her companions." That seemed to lighten up the man's mood and Caspian could have honestly laughed. If Margaery did bring companions with her to the Red Keep, it just meant more hostages for the Crown.

Once again, he wasn't one for such tactics, but one would take for what one would get.

"Well, that's one down." Caspian sighed as Lord Mace had left the small council chambers, slumping into his chair, "Two more to go." Lord Mace and his lords would continue to be guests at the Red Keep until Lady Margaery had made her way to the Red Keep.

"Expertly done, dearest nephew." Tyrion said, a smile on his face, "Although I'm rather cynical about the taxes. Not many will like that."

"It could have been twenty, thirty." He returned, "I think ten is letting them off rather easily and it's only for a decade. The decade will fly by and we also managed to remove a significant amount of debt from the Crown." He peered at his uncle and lady mother, "...Do you think I'll be able to convince grandfather into forgiving the three million the Crown owns him?"

His mother snorted, "You have better luck trying to convince a pig to fly."

"I thought as much." Caspian admitted, "But at least this way, the Iron Bank will stay off our case for a little while. Did you send the message to Sunspear Uncle?" He asked, his head turned to face his dwarf uncle.

Tyrion nodded his head, "The raven will arrive in a couple of days most likely. We will have our response then." His uncle looked up at him with those mismatched eyes of his, "Are you going to offer the same terms to Prince Doran as Lord Mace."

"Maybe. It'll be good if we can just push all of the debt owed to the Iron Bank to other Houses."

"What of Robb Stark?" His mother asked him, "What terms will you offer him for peace? I hope you won't accept his ridiculous request to secede from the suzerainty of the Iron Throne."

"Of course not." That was a whole bag of worms that he did not want opening. Say what you will about the Targaryens, but Aegon the Conqueror had the right notion of binding the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros under one rule. Of course in Caspian's mind, the Conqueror had done it half-assedly and had sown a whole field of potential problems to arise in the future, the Seven Kingdoms under one rule was for the better of everybody. Unlike the time when they were still individual kingdoms, wars were less common and that was something Caspian intended to keep, "I'm sure he'll agree to my terms."

His mother quirked an delicate eyebrow in curiosity, "And they are?"

Caspian could only give her a knowing smile, "I don't think if I told you, you would be particularly happy."

XxX

Catelyn

Outriders had spotted them a few hours before Harrenhal. A stand-off had been borne between the outriders and the Baratheon guards that had been with her escort. At least they had not attacked on sight.

Catelyn had been able to talk both parties from attacking each other, telling her of her current circumstances. With that done, she had relieved the guardsmen that had been given to her by Caspian to supplement her own diminished escort before the outriders and her own escort finally made their way towards Harrenhal.

Her son had been quick to return to the Riverlands and to Harrenhal when he had learned news of the state of the battle at King's Landing, _He must have worried about me._ She thought as the largest castle in all the Seven Kingdoms loomed over in the distance, _Robb and Arya._

She had been right. The moment that she had been ushered into his personal offices, Robb had embraced her in a fierce hug and not long after, Arya had done the same.

"Thank the gods," Robb said as he looked her over, "After I learned of the news at King's Landing, I was worried about you. I did not know whether you lived or had...died." The last words were difficult for him to say. She knew. He had already lost one parent and two brothers, he would not have wished to lose anymore members of his family.

Arya was of the same mind, "If you had died, I would have rammed Needle into that bastard Joffrey's chest."

Catelyn could have laughed. Arya had always been eloquent with her words, "You won't have to do such a thing unfortunately. King Joffrey is dead."

Robb was taken aback, "H-He is? How? When?"

"I do not know the details." Catelyn admitted as she took a seat. She noticed Grey Wind sat in front of one of the hearths, "But it seems he perished sometime during the Battle for King's Landing. Caspian is now king."

"Caspian?" Robb repeated, slightly shocked, "I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing." Like him, Caspian was also undefeated in the field, first, against the Dornish and now against his uncle's own forces.

Catelyn knew that between the two of them, Robb could boast more battle experience as he had won more battles, but that only by a slim number, _And some would say he earned his victory's because he always had the element of surprise on his side. Caspian did not. _"It is a good thing Robb." She said reassuringly, "He wants to meet for peace talks. That is why he allowed me to go free and return to you."

Robb had a serious expression on his face, "Peace talks..."

"You can't Robb!" Arya was quick to interject, "The Lannisters killed father and you know what happens when lords rebel."

"Arya!" Catelyn was quick to jump in, "What would you have him do? Continue fighting? By now, Caspian will have the forces of the Reach back underneath his control. Would you wish us to continue fighting against the combined powers of the Reach, Stormlands, Westerlands and Crownlands? You ask too much of Robb."

Arya angrily crossed her arms over her chest, "So you would be fine with making me and Sansa hostages for that nasty queen?"

"I never said anything about hostages." Catelyn said, "Caspian is offering to return Sansa back to us. Your sister. If he wanted to take hostages, why would he be giving us back Sansa?" That seemed to surprise her youngest daughter enough.

"He would willingly give us back Sansa?" Robb finally said, slowly and cautiously, "Why?"

Catelyn shook her head, "I do not know. But please Robb, accept. I have already lost Rickon and Bran, I can't lose you too. You should know that you can't possibly win this war."

"But-!"

"Arya!" Robb cut in quickly, before his sister could say anymore. He gave her a stern look with those Tully eyes of his, "Could you allow me and mother to speak privily?" It wasn't a request, it was a command and Catelyn knew that Arya knew.

Her daughter angrily got to her feet before marching out of the room, "She will be fine. She is just angry." Catelyn said when he saw the expression on her son's face, "You have always fought when you were children. This is nothing new."

Grey Wind, maybe sensing the distress of his companion rose from his place from the hearth and made his way towards Robb's side, "Not like this though." Robb said as he stroked the furs of his direwolf which was now the size of a small pony. His eyes set on her, "Will Caspian truly return Sansa to us?"

_His lords might now call him king, but he is still my child, and he will always look towards me for advice. _"Caspian is your friend is he not? You know him better than I do. Do you trust him?"

Robb allowed a queer smile to come across his lips, "Even if we are on opposite sides of a war, I would still think of him as someone I would want fighting beside me, him and Jon." She could tell that Robb had also envisioned Bran and Rickon in his mind, but dared not to say their names.

_Oh Robb...he blames himself for their deaths._ Catelyn rose from her seat. The gentle heat of the hearth warmed her and with the furs she wore, she was surprised that she was not sweating furiously. She placed a soothing hand on her son's face, "Rickon and Bran's deaths were not your fault Robb."

He moved his head away from her hand, his eyes sullen, "I should have listened to you. I trusted Theon and this is how he repaid my trust." A solemn smile crept across his lips, "I sure made a mess of that didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You made a mistake..." It pained her to say that, but she could not blame him. She was sure he was already blaming himself, "Everyone makes mistakes."

Robb could not find himself to look at her suddenly, "I...I also seemed to have made another mistake."

The tone and the way he said it brought up alarms within Catelyn's being, "What is it Robb?" She asked. She dared not show how alarmed she felt. She would always have to be his implacable supporter.

Robb took some time to find his words, but when he spoke, Catelyn had to take a moment to make sure she had heard him right, "I am wed." Her son had said.

Well now, that couldn't have been right. Lord Frey had agreed for the marriage to take after the war was done and with that thought, a damning thought came to her mind, _Oh gods, Robb, what have you done?_ "Who?" She thought her question had come out a squawk rather than the even tone that she wanted it to be.

"Jeyne Westerling, of the Westerlings." Robb was quick to say, "The lords of the Crag."

"Oh Robb..." Walder Frey was not going to like this. Actually, now that she thought about it, when she had entered Harrenhal, she had not seen the banners of House Frey amongst the assembled banners, "Lord Frey..." She trailed off.

Robb looked away, "Has rescinded his support. I have made a botch of things haven't I? Maybe I can offer Uncle Edmure as a suitable replacement."

"That won't appease Lord Frey." She was quick to point out to him, "If you had married one of his own, she would have bared him a future king. That would have been his thought." She took a breath of air, "Without the support of the Twins, this war has become even more difficult than it was before Robb. You have to meet Caspian and hear out his terms. Please."

Robb could only smile at her, a small, tight smile, "I know that mother. I suppose I shall have to send a reply to King's Landing then?"

XxX

The sun burnt brightly up in the sky. The heat had been so hot for the past couple of days that Catelyn had stopped wearing the furs that were synonymous with the northmen, lest she find herself suffer from heatstroke. The same was for Robb as he rode beside her towards the meeting point with an escort of a hundred swords.

Both Robb and Caspian had agreed to that at least and she hoped that initial agreement would see both of them agree to a peace.

The field that had been chosen for the talks was a rather large field. The field extended north into the Riverlands and south into the Crownlands. She had hoped that they would be the first to arrive so that they could get a lay of the land but it seemed Caspian had been quick to beat them to arrival.

In the middle of the field was a tent that had no walls, set up to protect the inhabitants from the heat of the day. She could see behind the tent, some several hundred metres away, standing in the shadows of the forest was the probable escort of the diplomatic party.

Inside the tent itself she could see the forms of two people. She cast a glance at her son who nodded his head. He ordered his escort to stay back and she and him rode forth towards the tent.

As they travelled nearer towards the tent, she noticed its two inhabitants were Caspian and his dwarf brother. At seeing the Imp, memories of her time in the Eyrie flashed across her eyes.

"Robb," Caspian was the first to greet them, standing to his feet, an even smile of greeting on his face and idly twirling in his hands, a simple crown of gold and iron, "Been a while. Wish we could have met each other under better circumstances."

Her son seemed to be surprised at seeing his old friend. He had to squint and make sure it was the same person, "Caspian?" He said slowly, "Your hair..."

The young king could only laugh, "Yeah, I know. It suits me doesn't it?"

"I always knew you were an old man."

"As much as I would love to see you two catching up," The Imp said as he spoke in, "But I do think that we have better things to do with our time. Like say, negotiating some sort of peace here?"

"You are always one to ruin things, aren't you uncle?" Caspian said as he retook his seat, his crown now laid onto the table, "But I guess you have a point. So let's have a start at these talks shall we?"

Catelyn noticed her son had taken a far more serious demeanour, "Let's hear your demands first then."

Caspian quirked an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders, "Problem there is that I particularly don't have any demands for you. I don't plan on requesting any hostages from any of the northern lords." That had taken her and Robb by surprise and Catelyn could see that the Imp seemed to suffer from some mild discomfort about the whole issue, "Instead, I think you could all suffer, say...a ten percent tax increase for the next decade, no?"

"My lords won't like that."

"It's either that, or hostages." Caspian returned to his old friend, holding up his hands as if they were scales, "Which one would they prefer if given a choice? Paying increased taxes for the next decade or have their own blood be held upon them?"

"We could still continue fighting." Robb returned.

"You have lost the support of the Frays." Tyrion said and he cast him a crooked, knowing smile at the shocked look Robb had given him, "Yes, we know about that."

"A shrewd man would have used that knowledge to his own advantage." Caspian said, "Look Robb, no matter how I look at this, you can't win. You've won every battle you have fought in, but you are going to lose the war. With the Reach and soon enough Dorne under control, you will be outnumbered and I'm sure some of your lords are worried about the ironborn assaulting the western coast."

Catelyn could have frowned. Some of the northern lords that held lands on the western coasts of the North had been worried about their lands. Lord Glover had been in grief ever since he had learned that Deepwood Motte had been taken by the ironborn, him and Lord Talhart at the fall of Torrhen's Square.

"Those are generous...terms." Her son admitted slowly. Catelyn had to agree. The terms almost made it seem as if they had never risen up in rebellion.

Caspian sighed, "You don't have to tell me. I am rather sure some of my other lords won't be happy, but I'm rather certain if they had been harsher, you would have never accepted them. If you accept them, I would ask that you send a relief force to help my lord grandfather in retaking Lannisport away from the ironborn. At the very least, it might not do much for relations between the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the North, but it would be a start. I already have my own hosts helping the Reachmen."

"Do I have leave to propose this to my lords?"

Caspian nodded, "And if they want any changes in the terms, we can negotiate afterwards until we come to an accord."

Robb nodded and turned to leave. Catelyn walked in step with him, "What will you do?" She asked.

"I shall inform my lords of the terms and see how they take it." Her son replied.

"They are generous terms." Catelyn pointed out. The only thing that could be contentious would be the tax increase, but compared to other penalties defeated lords had suffered in the annals of history, they seemed weak and it would only be for ten years before the taxes themselves returned back to normal.

"That they are indeed." Robb admitted, "I hope the other lords see them as such."

* * *

**AN: You know what I just realised? The Valonqar in Maggy the Frog's prophecy could very well be Jaime. He is the younger brother of Cersei and she has pushed him away after everything she has done. Fuck. Total mind fuck right there. **

**I surprise myself sometimes.**

**Somewhat short chapter considering my usual lengths, but I had to cut this one down from the original which was something like near 15k words? I had to do some editing and other things as well. Anyway, next chapter will be Caspian being diplomatic as fuck, dealing with Prince Doran, then having a start on the ironborn and maybe I'll put in a Dany POV that has been on my mind. Ladies and gents, you would be fucking amazed at what I've decided to do with Dany and that other Targaryen (probably...I'm still not sold on him) when I get to him eventually.**

**And Varys, and Littlefinger...and a bunch of other people.**

**Anyway, for future reference, I will be working under the assumption that the Crown owes the Iron Bank an even 1.6m gold dragons. It's never explicitly said how much the Crown owes them apart from the fact that they are one of the groups that the Crown owns 3m gold dragons too.**

**So that means Caspian had just reduced the debt to 600,000 gold dragons in a matter of minutes. Got to love the Lord Oaf of Highgarden, even if his daughter is ridiculously fit :L**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this and thanks to the poll, it seems the result is in. Winter is coming...just not yet.**

**TheForeverKing**


	16. Chapter 16

**Shutouts:**

**pojo18: You'll be waiting a while mate. That won't be coming in for, I have no idea how many chapters. I haven't even wrote a story board that far yet.**

**OMAC001: Damn right mate. Nothing is going to go his way, but he'll damn well try to force the issue.**

**jeffs87: I don't think GRRM has one definite protagonist. I do. **

**bruto22: Something like that, or maybe something not so like that? Who knows? I do, but I'm not going to tell until it happens in the story. It's not going to be easy though.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/ASOIAF_

* * *

Robb

Tywin Lannister was a scary man.

A very scary man.

But Robb would be damned if he showed that he was afraid of the 'Old Lion' as he was called. Ever since this war council had been started, the Lord of Casterly Rock had taken it upon himself to try and stare him down, seemingly trying to learn something about him.

Maybe Tywin was interested in how a boy of only sixteen years of age was able to go onto the field undefeated without any previous battle or command experience. Robb didn't know, neither did he care. All he wanted to do right now, was to show the admittedly, terrifying man that he was not scared of him, even with those green, flecked with gold eyes of his seemingly bored into the depths of his very soul.

_I do think I'm actually going to punch him._ Not Tywin Lannister, but Caspian Baratheon instead. The king was the object of his current ire. Caspian was in need of a good punching anyway. He didn't know why he agreed to his request that he lead a relief host to help relieve Lannisport from the hands of the ironborn.

He couldn't particularly careless about what happened to the lands of the Lannisters. He was more concerned about his very own lands in the North, but he knew that Lord Glover and Lord Talhart would be able to recapture their own lands easily enough without him being there. The Manderly's and the Umbers and other Northern lords had already sent hosts in the direction of Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's Square, by the time Lord Glover and Talhart arrived at their respective castles, the siege would already be underway, if not over.

The ironborn gained their strength from the sea and apart from Torrhen's Square, Deepwood Motte would be easily retaken. That particular castle wasn't exactly located on the coasts or a large lake that was connected to the seas by a river.

The combined Lannister-Stark host had already surrounded the city of Lannisport and somewhat surprisingly, the ironborn had decided to stay and fight, although it would have been easier for them to take to their longships and sail away.

But Robb didn't care. He felt like spilling ironborn blood, after what they had done to Winterfell. He would sate his vengeance against Theon the Turncloak with the blood of any ironborn who found himself on the wrong end of his sword. And if the gods were good, he wouldn't mind meeting Theon one more time and having a heart-to-heart 'talk' with him.

A talk that would most likely result in him removing his head from the rest of his pathetic body.

He wanted to growl at the thought of Theon and Winterfell, but only the knowledge that he was in a council meeting and that the eyes of Tywin Lannister watching him impeccably stopped him from doing such a thing. Instead, he allowed himself to dorn a cool visage onto his face, his Tully blue eyes looking right back at the Old Lion himself.

Despite him being the head of the council, Tywin Lannister was not the one who was doing the speaking, sharing his plans to the lords and commanders assembled in the tent. Instead, that duty was delegated down to his younger brother and ever faithful lieutenant, Ser Kevan Lannister, "We have the entire city surrounded. We have three hosts located on the river road, the gold road and the ocean road. 10,000 men at the gold road commanded by Ser Addam," The bannerman of House Lannister with the dark, rangy copper hair nodded his head in recognition of his deployment, "15,000 stationed at the river road under the command of Lord Stark," Ser Kevan's green eyes lingered on the form of Robb. Robb gave a nod of his own acknowledgement before Ser Kevan continued speaking, "And finally, 25,000 at the ocean road."

The battle plan was essentially simple. Lannisport was located at the meeting point of three of the major roads of Westeros. Like many large and important cities within the realm, it was a walled city and those three roads fed into Lannisport through gates that served in the same capacity that the gates of King's Landing served.

They would strike from three directions, stretching whatever ironborn garrison that had been left behind to protect the city, or hold it. Their hosts had already assembled at their ordained positions, with siege equipment at the ready to ram down the gates or scale up the walls with ladders.

They didn't know how many ironborn were serving as a garrison, but they would be outnumber against a host that numbered 50,000 men. If it was anyone else, Robb would think this would be an easy battle, but the news of Caspian holding King's Landing against his uncle's forces whilst outnumbered stopped him from thinking such a thing.

Although he didn't believe half the things that were said as to how Caspian was able to hold out for so long, he for one wasn't going to be prejudiced before battle. Complaisance could only bring defeat.

_At least we aren't attacking one gate._ Robb thought as Ser Kevan continued speaking. He couldn't help but think that Lord Renly was a fool for placing all his strength into attacking one gate. That would have given the defenders an advantage in the fact that they could put all their strength into protecting one area instead of multiple areas, _Nor do we have to cross a river or anything of the likes. _With each thought, it became rather clear to him that victory was more than likely going to be the result at the end of the day.

The meeting went about its way before Ser Kevan allowed everyone to have their leave. As he left the tent, Robb couldn't help but finding himself letting out a large sigh of relief.

Despite being several inches smaller than Greatjon himself, Tywin Lannister had put enough fear into him that was of a higher scale than the fear Greatjon had put into him when he had first called the banners to march south.

He actually found himself feeling rather sorry for Caspian. That was the person that had taken care of him for several years of his life? Robb could now say that he now clearly understood why his old friend and now king was the way he was.

Even he would end up with some quirks to the personality if he had to spend the better part of his formative years with someone like him.

_Still though, I wonder what he thinks of me._ Certainly good thoughts hopefully. Thoughts that went along the lines that Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, the boy that had been undefeated in the field, was someone not to be trifled with in any manner.

Brushing those thoughts away, Robb made for his palfrey and his escort before riding off to meet with the rest of his northern host that was to assault Lannisport from the river road. This was certainly going to be an experience for him. He had yet to fight a battle where he would have to take a city or a castle rather than relieve one from a siege itself.

He hoped this particular battle would result in another victory for him to notch onto his battle and keep the stories that he was undefeatable in battle until he died.

XxX

Caspian

Seating at the head of the small council table in the middle of a meeting was certainly a novel experience. He had sat on the small council before, when his father was still alive and breathing, but that had been as an acting master of ships.

Now he sat at the head of the table as the king.

How fun.

He almost felt giddy at the prospect of hearing the matters of state and his council advising him on how to deal with such things. He wondered how such a prospect never enticed his father. It certainly enticed him and that was certainly a surprise.

For someone who always tried to take the easy way in life, such a thing should not have enticed him at all. Not one bit, but then again, here he sat, enticed by the prospects of rulership.

He took a moment to look around at the currently assembled small council. Grand Maester Pycelle sat at the side, his post as the grand maester to the small council returned to him after Tyrion had removed him from his position on the council due to the fact that he acted as an informant for his mother.

He wondered why his uncle had never come to him and asked for who served who in the council. He could have easily told the man that Pycelle served his mother, but his true loyalties lay with House Lannister, more accurately, his grandfather, Tywin Lannister.

He had learned that during his time at Casterly Rock. Tywin Lannister was always a man who kept his ears to the ground, learning about the happenings of the kingdom from within the capital itself, always looking for a way to always improve House Lannisters position.

Tyrion had cut off Pycelle's long white beard that had gone down his torso and nearly to his waist. Without the beard, Pycelle looked like a different man. Caspian had always had the thought that the beard gave Pycelle an air of wisdom about him, sort of like a wizard.

In his childhood, he had read tales and heard stories of wizened old wizards with their wizened old, white beards. A beard seemed like one of the pre-requisite for one to be a wizard, and thus a font of wisdom. Without his beard, Pycelle looked less than that. He looked even more frail than he usually did, like he was going to keel over and die soon enough.

_The Conclave better start meeting to find a new Grand Maester soon enough._ Caspian thought as he glossed over the aged frame of Pycelle, _How old is he again?_ Pycelle was definitely no longer a spring chicken.

Moving on, Caspian's eyes came to rest on the form of his master of whisperers, Varys. He still did not trust the eunuch and he was sure that trusting the eunuch would be a very foolhardy thing to do. The man held no allegiance to anyone but himself.

And Caspian had not forgotten his council to his mother to relieve Ser Barristan of his duties to the Kingsguard, _He says he serves the realm, I fail to see how he served the realm by having Ser Barristan released from the Kingsguard._ If someone had to be blamed for the death of his uncle as Joffrey had wanted, would it not have been easier to put the blame on Lancel? He was the idiot that had been giving his lord father wine, _Then again, father never did know when to stop._

It was difficult to tell what the eunuch was thinking as he smiled that smiley smile of his. Varys had a rather impeccable poker face, unless a threat to his very existence suddenly found itself in front of him, that was when the eunuch started showing emotion.

Once again, his eyes moved on and rested on Littlefinger. Caspian felt like immediately having the man arrested, but thought better of it. His particular skills with money was to be needed, although he would keep a close eye on Littlefinger.

Thanks to Robb, Caspian now knew that Littlefinger was one of the main instigators of the so-called War of the Four Kings, if not, the very main instigator. He had been the one who directed Lady Stark in the direction of his uncle when she came to King's Landing to tell Lord Stark of the catspaw send after their son, Bran.

He had claimed ownership of the dagger that the catspaw had been meant to use to kill Bran, but saying that he had lost it in a wager to Tyrion. Everything sounded all well and good, but there was just a major flaw in his story.

When Robb had described to him what the dagger looked like when he asked, Caspian had immediately recognized it as the dagger his brother had been gifted on their thirteenth name-day. Littlefinger _knew_ this.

He could not say he didn't know.

He had been in the Great Hall when both boys had been given their Valyrian steel weapons. The man had even praised the weapons for the detail that had been worked into them. He had even clapped and been one of the people that gossiped about King Robert favouring him as heir over his brother.

_What's his game?_ Caspian thought as he looked over the master of coin who had that mocking smile of his on his face. He was clearly ambitious. That was plain enough to see for anyone who was half-blind. He had seen the fleeting looks he gave the Iron Throne whenever he had the chance. When he was in the council, Littlefinger was the first to arrive to the meetings and the last to leave.

First to arrive and last to leave so he can cast his gaze upon the Iron Throne and dream of himself seating their, lording over the rest of the realm.

_The man wants power. He wants to be king._ Came the final thought. The thought didn't come as a surprise to him at all. Everyone dreamed of themselves to be some sort of king, but the question lingered as to how exactly Baelish wanted to come to that position of power.

He was rich, one of the richest men in Westeros, but he was too lowborn. His holdings would have to increase if he wanted the power he so craved. And with that thought a small knowing smile crept across his face, _What better time to rise through the ladder and increase your own power than during war time?_ If one was smart enough, ambitious enough and wilful enough, one could easily increase their holdings during war.

Of course this would have all been particularly useless if he had ended up on the losing side, but that was politics and one of the risks that came with ambition. One had to gamble and be willing to take whatever the risk to reach their desired goal.

_Unfortunately, it seems I've put a stop to whatever ambitions you have Lord Baelish._ But that did not mean he was any less dangerous. As he had thought before, Littlefinger's greatest asset was not his mind, but his gold. Lords always liked to hold themselves above others with their notion of honour and pride, but the colour and noise of gold is always enough to turn heads, _I shall keep an eye on you._

"What are you smiling about dearest nephew?" His uncle Tyrion asked when he had noticed the small smile on his face.

Caspian just grinned at him, "Oh nothing. Just thinking of all the fun we'll have."

His mother, who sat beside him looked at him, "You do not have to be here Caspian. Small council meetings are a tedious business." She said, a reassuring smile on her face.

Caspian gave her a curious look, "I _have _ served on the small council as acting master of ships, so I know how tedious they are. I suffered through them before, it seems I'll have to suffer through them once more." He then thumbed in the direction of his recently released from the dungeons uncle, "Uncle Jaime there looks like he doesn't even want to be here."

At the mention, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime had his wits back about him as he smiled at his nephew, "Am I that easy to read?"

_Like an open book thankfully enough._ It had been near two weeks since Robb released his Uncle Jaime, along with the other highborn prisoners that he had captured during his campaigns. Frankly, he wouldn't have minded if Robb had kept his uncle within his dungeons, but Tyrion had been one to champion his cause for release, although ransoms had to be paid, for the Young Lion of House Lannister, their was nothing Lord Tywin or the Lannisters of Casterly Rock would not be willing to pay.

Caspian wasn't exactly sure of how to feel about his uncle's release. He had never been particularly close with the man. In fact, their relationship mirrored the exact relationship he had with his mother, distant and largely, seemingly uncaring of the other.

The fact that he felt far closer with his grandfather, Lord Tywin, spoke volumes.

With Jaime back in King's Landing, he could now start investigating fully the accusations Stannis had against him and his mother. If the accusations were true, he wasn't particularly feeling eager of the time of when he would have to most likely order for their heads to be removed from their necks.

But from what Asher could tell him, the meetings between his uncle and his mother have all been proper, nothing improper happening between them and he always had one or two people following either one of them.

"Afraid so uncle." Caspian replied with a smile on his face, "But enough of that. Shall we have a start on this meeting? I'm sure many of us have things to be doing." He clasped his hands on the table in front of him, "So what is the first order of business then?"

Tyrion was the one who spoke first, "Well, since Lord Renly's capture and treason, the position of master of laws has been left rather open. We will need to find someone to replace him."

"I suggest Osfryd Kettleblack." Cersei was quick to talk, a lovely smile upon her lips.

Caspian raised a curious eyebrow. He was sure Osfryd Kettleblack was one of the Kettleblack brothers, the younger brother of Ser Osmund, who had somehow survived the Battle of King's Landing despite the fact that he was supposed to have been posted to be alongside Joffrey along with Ser Meryn.

How curious that was.

His uncle Tyrion merely smiled at his sister, "Master of laws is a very prestigious position, dear sister. We will need someone of more...repute and trustworthiness to take up the position."

His mother just smiled as she looked at Tyrion. Even her smile was poisonous and filled with malice as she looked at him, despite those mal feelings, it did nothing for her fair features, "You'll find no better man than Osfryd."

Caspian was of a different mind to that statement, _Pretty sure you can._ "I would have to go with Unce Tyrion on this. I've seen and met Osfryd. He isn't exactly someone I would trust to be in charge of the laws of the realm. He doesn't look very savvy...he can't even _read._" His mother's face reddened ever so much at his words but he ignored it and continued speaking, "Either way, I propose Ser Brynden Tully."

The eunuch tittered in his seat, "The Blackfish?"

Caspian nodded his head, "The very same." One of the terms he had offered to Robb to bend the knee (He in fact, did not bend the knee. The two agreed that they will just say him and his lords had done the act) was that their would be a small council seat for one of his northern lords or one of the river lords.

They had all but chosen Ser Brynden beforehand. The man was practical, shrewd and unrelenting. Despite King's Landing being a viper's nest, he was sure that Brynden Tully would be able to hold himself within his new surroundings whilst carrying out his duty.

His mother seemed to gape at him, "You would have a traitor on your council?"

"_Former_ traitor." Caspian easily replied, "I do believe the Riverlands are back under the King's Peace, no?"

His mother shook her head, her golden locks swaying to the left and right with each shake, "No. I won't allow it."

"The King has spoken." Tyrion said, a smile on his face. He seemed to be rather amused by the whole spectacle.

"Yes he has, but he is still a child. Until he comes of age, I rule as regent and I won't have my sons' council be filled with traitors."

_If everything they say about you and Jaime is true mother, you're the worst traitor of them all._ "You do realise I turn six-and-ten in two moons right? Even if you deny it to me now, I could just circumvent you two moons from now and put Ser Brynden in as master of laws." Caspian more or less deadpanned to his mother.

Tyrion could only seemingly chuckle at the look on his mother's face, "He has you there Cersei. The king is correct. He could just circumvent your decision when he comes into power." He wiped away a stray tear, his uncle was seemingly enjoying this, "And I do agree with Caspian on this. Ser Brynden would make an excellent master of laws. We do need someone of his character on the council after all."

If his mother's face had been any redder, she would have put a tomato to shame. The queen regent chewed on her lip, "Very well. I'll...accept this." She said, relenting.

Caspian saw from the corner of his eyes that his mother had sent him a look with daggers in it. He found himself particularly uncaring since that was the very same look he had received countless of times during his youth.

Tyrion clasped his hands together, "Excellent. Pycelle, if you would so please dispatch a raven to Riverrun, that would be excellent."

The old man gave him a quick cursory nod of his head, "As soon as the meeting is done."

Tyrion nodded his head, "Moving onto the next matter is what to do about our king's other uncle. The one who treasoned against the Crown."

"Treason can only be answered by death." It was his mother who spoke.

Tyrion seemed to ignore and instead cast his gaze towards him, "And what do you think?"

Caspian could only smile wryly, "If I order for my uncle's head, I would be known as a kinslayer, even if I wasn't the one to carry out the act. I particularly don't care about the title itself, but others do and well, I doubt the people would want to be ruled by a kinslayer now would they?"

"So the Wall it is then?" Pycelle asked, his hands twitching to go and stroke his beard only for him to realise he now no longer had a beard to stroke.

"If he accepts."

"And if he doesn't?" Littlefinger asked.

Caspian shrugged uncaringly, "Then I guess he would enjoy the rest of his life in the black cells." His uncle would receive the normal treatment of any prisoner that was jailed in the black cells rather than the tower cells he was currently inhabiting. He would most likely die in the black cells, within a couple of years most likely. That was the average death rate of any criminal sent into the black cells and if he did die during his time in there, people wouldn't be able to call Caspian kinslayer. He had simply carried out his duty as king.

Caspian then turned his attention to his uncle, Jaime, now the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. He would have to admit that the thought of his uncle as the person in charge of the knights tasked with the protection of the royal family somewhat irked him.

Jaime, for lack of better words, had shit for honour. It seemed his time within the late lord Hoster Tully's dungeons had done little to his usual arrogance and personality. Frankly, he would prefer someone else as Lord Commander, _Like Ser Barristan._ If he had known that his brother was going to die so soon after being crowned, he would have easily accepted the old knight into his service.

Despite this, Caspian could handle his uncle's personality, it was just his uncle was someone who was not suited to leadership. Even now, he seemed wholly uninterested in the goings of the small council, never mind the realm.

He was going to have to do something about his uncle's position as Lord Commander, _Maybe I should release him from his vows? Grandfather would have his golden lion back as heir to Casterly Rock. _Joffrey had given him a precedence of removing the knights of the Kingsguard from their vows of duty, but that was neither here nor there. His grandfather would ever be so happy about that. Then he thought of his other uncle, he most likely would not be happy about that.

Nepotism was such a pain in the arse.

He gave his uncle a small smile, "Uncle Jaime," He called out, getting the blonde haired man to turn his attention to him from whatever thoughts he had been, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Kingsguard is now void of three knights, no?"

Jaime blinked before stroking his chin. Until recently, he had something of an uncouth, wild beard that he had grown during his year in captivity, "Yes, Ser Meryn and Ser Preston perished during the battle and Ser Boros...well, I doubt he will ever be able to lift a sword or fight ever again." He said, uncaring about the fates of his sworn brothers, "One's dead and the other is useless. So yes, the Kingsguard are short of three Sworn Brothers."

"Oh good. Then you wouldn't mind initiating Ser Balon Swann and Ser Guyard Morrigen into the Kingsguard to take their places." Caspian instructed, "They're both valiant and skilled knights that are worthy of the honour. I would also like you to release Ser Osmund and in his place, take in Ser Dantis Jast. "

The other councillors seemed rather curious judging by the expressions they were giving him. Jaime just quirked an eyebrow as he still bore that easy smile of his on his face, "Last time I checked, the knights of the Kingsguard serve for life?"

"Thanks to Joffrey, there's now a precedence." Caspian said, "And I plan to use it to fill the Kingsguard with worthy knights suitable for the Kingsguard and can bring honour to the order." Now that he thought about it, the way he said it would most likely seem like a jab to his uncle, the man with shit for honour and judging from the slight tightening of his smile, his uncle had taken his words as a jab.

Caspian was rather unremorseful about the entire thing and unrepentant.

His mother had that smile of hers on her lips as she looked at him, "Caspian, Ser Osmund is a good knight, worthy enough of the Kingsguard. Why remove him?" She asked, although her words were sweet, she was demanding of him to explain himself.

Caspian turned to his mother and gave her a sweet smile, "In the immortal words of Joffrey, although he over used them for my liking, I shall just say this, I'm the king, and the king can do whatever he damn well wants." His answer seemed to bring a round of amusement to his uncle Tyrion and some of the other councillors. Littlefinger and Varys had an smile of amusement on their faces and Tyrion just seemed to want to burst laughing.

Caspian then snapped his fingers, "Oh yes, Uncle Jaime, I hope you don't mind if I strip you of the title of Warden of the East do you?" He asked, although he was implying that he was more than likely going to do it either way without his permission.

Jaime merely laughed, as he motioned his hands in a dismissive way, "I don't mind. Do whatever you wish."

"So you'll be giving the title back to Jon Arryn's son?" Tyrion asked.

Caspian slowly shook his head, "More along the lines of House Arryn." He had seen Robin Arryn before and he had always been something of a sickly boy. He was surprised the boy was still very much alive with as weak and sickly as he was. It was also rather disturbing how Lady Lysa kept coddling the boy despite him being six years of age.

Eerily similar to how his mother coddled Joffrey when they were younger, although he couldn't tell which of the two of the two were the worst.

"Although I do have my reservations about the state of the House." It was nearing extinction and it's young lord also seemed to have a foot slowly going into the grave, _If I'm not correct, there's a heir or something...Harry, Harrison, Harrod, Harrold? _He remembered Jon Arryn telling him about such a boy back when he visited King's Landing. Apparently, he had fought his son's heir presumptive during a tourney melee once, but he had never caught the face of this heir.

"My lords," Varys spoke up, "I bring news from the east."

_Oh this will be good._ The news was most likely going to involve the exiled Targaryens one way or another, "I shall wager this news of yours Varys includes dragons." Littlefinger said, speaking up.

The eunuch could only smile, "Oh my, am I that obvious?" He allowed himself to laugh in good humour before speaking once more, "My little birds carry whispers that say Prince Viserys has been crowned."

Such news would have brought a sudden amount of trepidation and surprise, but having fought and still fighting a war that was called the War of the Four Kings, by now, Caspian wouldn't really be surprised if someone else suddenly declared themselves king, aiming for the Iron Throne. In fact, he had a witty quip just for this moment.

He looked at Grand Maester Pycelle, "Seems like you maesters got it wrong. It's not a War of Four Kings, but Five instead."

Pycelle could only chuckle, "I shall make note to have the changes made as soon as possible, Your Grace." It was rather strange seeing him laugh. His beard had always hid the movements of his chest whenever he made such an action.

"So am I to be worried about a horde of Dothraki coming towards my kingdoms?" Caspian asked, his hand propped up on the arm rest of his seat.

The eunuch smiled as he shook his head, "No, Your Grace. Prince Viserys was crowned indeed, by the husband of his younger sister no less, with a crown of...molten gold."

The meaning wasn't lost on him, "That must have been...painful."

"I would suspect molten gold to the flesh to be rather painful, dearest nephew." Tyrion chimed in, "So that means there's only one Targaryen in the world you should worry about. I wonder where she was exactly when her brother was crowned." He finished as he looked in the direction of Varys. His uncle was hoping for more information on such a thing and he was not to be disappointed.

Varys did not disappoint, "It is said that the girl was in the very same room when her brother was crowned by her husband."

Caspian raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "So she just let him die? She didn't even try to save him?" He received no answer from Varys but that was all that he needed. Caspian smiled, he could use this, "I can't really say I'm surprised."

Jaime was of the same mind, "Her father _was _the Mad King after all. Everyone knows the taint of madness runs in that family."

"Incest would do that I suspect." Caspian said off-handedly. The rest of the world, to his knowledge saw incest as nothing more than an unnatural act that spawned abominations. The Valyrians were the only ones that practiced the act to try and keep their bloodlines pure...whatever that meant.

The small council meeting continued for a couple more hours, the various ministers bringing up topics that required the king's attention. During the entire course, his mother had tried to stamp her authority on the meeting by suggesting one course of action, unfortunately, depending on who was asked, either Tyrion or Caspian himself would override her decision or suggest another course of action.

The council had also come up with suitable punishments for the Crownlanders Houses who had either ignored the summons from their liege lord of House Baratheon of King's Landing or had just outright gone to his uncle's cause when he entered the Crownlands.

Most had most of their lands stripped and given to lords that had actually answered the call...which were few and far in between. The crownlander lords who had actually answered the call were located in the north, whilst the southern crownlanders had ignored it, except for the ones that bordered the Stormlands.

Those lords were the ones that found themselves seeing their lands and incomes increased, but this still left a large chunk of land that would still need to be given to someone. Eventually, the decision was made to give the lands, keeps or castles to either the younger sons of loyal vassals to House Lannister or House Baratheon of Storm's End.

But Caspian was able to hold to possess a rather sizeable chunk of land within the Crownlands among other tracts of land within the hands of the Crown itself. The House that had been given to that part of land had found itself gone extinct. It's heir and lord, the only two members of the House having both perished during the battle of King's Landing.

Caspian didn't exactly know how to make of that. Who was stupid enough to have both the heir and lord of a land fight in a battle at the same time without thinking about something such as death, _Then again, King's Landing was supposed to fall easily enough._ He had thought.

His uncle and the other councillors had been rather curious what he planned to do with the lands but he could only tell them it was a secret.

Caspian had big plans, _big _plans. He had wondered what sort of king he will be remembered for, but he decided that at the very least, he wanted to make a Westeros that would be better to live for those in the future. He was adamant in doing that, even if it would most likely result in him having to exterminate quite the number of noble Houses wouldn't like his reforms when he came to enacting him.

_I'm no Jaehaerys the Wise._ He had admitted to himself when he began planning what he wanted to do, _I'll most likely be remembered as a butcher by some, and maybe something else by others. But it won't matter, for all I do, I do for them._ A kings duty was to serve the realm. Joffrey was of the mind that being king was his right, if they had gone by that logic, then the king of Westeros should have been Viserys Targaryen.

If he had seen that being a king was more of a duty to his subjects than a right he inherited because their father was king, his brother might have lived a far longer and fruitful life. But he couldn't exactly blame Joffrey for how he became. He was simply a product of his upbringing.

Seeing how Joffrey ended up the older they got as they grew up, Caspian realised early on that he, Myrcella and Tommen were lucky that their mother had showered all of her attention and love on Joffrey. He doubted anything good would have come from them being given the same level of attention that their mother and their father had given them.

In retrospect, Caspian was somewhat amazed that he was as stable as he was. Sure, he had his own questionable quirks of the personality, but they were more tamed than anything compared to his brother.

The path he had chosen would unsurely lead him to burning in all the seven hells most likely, but he would put up with it if he secured a future for Westeros that did not see the people suffer from the petty games of high lords.

Eventually, it came to the end of the meeting were two rather important topics were brought up, Caspian's very first court session and the most important of them all, Caspian's eventual marriage.

Due to the fact that immediately after his crowning, Caspian had to go and treat with Robb, he had been unable to hold his first court session and thus, rather belatedly, his very first court session was to be tomorrow at noon, where all the rewards shall be given out to the soldiers and nobles who had distinguished themselves during the Battle of King's Landing.

He had seen the list of the people who were going to be rewarded and Caspian immediately knew that the reward ceremony was going to take far longer than he ever wanted it to take. He wondered if he could just pass it off to his uncle, he _was_ acting Hand of the King after all.

His duties included things like this, in case the king himself couldn't do it due to one reason or another.

"...Due to his status as a prince-in-exile, Jalabhar Xho will be the first of the court, to petition you, Your Grace." Pycelle finished saying.

Jaime laughed to himself, a mocking laugh more than anything, "I do wonder what he will petition you for, nephew."

"For any army, no doubt." His mother was quick to say, contempt in her voice. She had never particularly been fond of the exiled prince, even with his bright and coloury feather coat. Her mood had soured during the course of the entire meeting, and it showed in her voice. She was more bitter than she usually was when angry, "Do us a favour and tell the man that he won't be getting any army, now or ever. Why your father put up with him I would not know."

Caspian liked to think either wise. The prospect of invading the Summer Islands must have attracted him, that or the chance to lay a black-skinned beauty of the Summer Islands. He would admit that the prospect was enticing in its own way. He was still a growing young man and even he had his own needs and fantasies. He was no saint, "Well, I like to consider myself a magnanimous man, so I'm going to accept his request."

The council looked at him with slightly widened eyes. Tyrion leaned forward onto the table, "Nephew, you do realise we already are fighting one war correct? I doubt we have the coin to spare to fight another, in a far off land no doubt."

Littlefinger gave a nod of his head, "Lord Tyrion is correct. The only way I can think of coming up with the coin for such a campaign would be the Iron Bank or your lord grandfather, but I do recall you stating that you wished not to incur anymore debt."

Caspian could see what Littlefinger was trying to do and only smiled back at the man, "You do realise wars in the Summer Islands are fought differently compared to the rest of the world?"

That confused some of his councillors. The ones who seemed to know what he was alluding too were the eunuch and Pycelle after it took a moment for him to most likely recall every single bit of knowledge he had learned about the Summer Islands and finally his uncle Tyrion, judging by the smile that crept onto his face.

"Yes..." He said very slowly, "We could very well do that."

His mother didn't seem to like the look of knowing that was going on between the two of them, "Explain." Was all she asked, although the way she said it was more of a demand than anything, _To the king no less!_ Caspian thought dryly.

Caspian looked around the room to the ones who were in the know, "Anyone want to explain to my lady mother of the customs of warfare in the Summer Islands?"

Pycelle cleared his throat as he indicated he would be the one to speak, "In the Summer Islands, warfare is highly ritualized, taking place on days and times chosen by their priests. In fact, their wars resemble more of a tournament melee or a trial of seven rather than an actual war. Of course people die, but the number of death rarely exceeds into the double digit figures."

Pycelle had also forgotten to mention that the usual things that accompanied war, the raping, killing of smallfolk along with the razing of lands and crops was never done. In fact, when the loser was determined, he was allowed to leave the Summer Islands to whatever destination that he wished, unharmed.

If it was Westeros, or anywhere else in the world, there would have been mountains of bodies.

Caspian couldn't help but be amazed at how overly simple the Summer Islanders kept it. He wondered if such a thing could be done here? _All disputes settled by a melee between several champions. That would save people a lot of time, money and grief._ It was a pipe dream though, but it was a dream nonetheless and he couldn't help but dream about it.

"Thank you, Pycelle," Caspian said with a nod of the head, "All in all, what I'm trying to say is, we don't have to give the man an army thousands of men strong, all we have to do is give him a company of noted and skilled knights, soldiers for example and let him take them to his home land where they will win back his lands..." A smile crept across his face, a sly smile in nature, "Of course, before we agree to such a thing, we would make sure that in whatever treaty or agreement is written between us, we would make sure that everything is within our favour. For all we know, we might be able to make Prince Jalabhar's kingdom a client state of the Iron Throne." He finished off in such a casual manner that he might as well have been talking about the weather.

His uncle Tyrion seemed to like it, "The Summer Islands are rich in goods we cannot gain here and it would be beneficial for all of us if we could purchase such goods at a lower price..." He cast a crooked smile at his nephew, "I think Lord Tywin would ever be so pleased with you. I shall begin drawing up the papers immediately and invite Prince Jalabhar for talks."

Caspian smiled at his uncle, "You do that uncle. So what else is on today's agenda?" He asked the council as he looked around the table.

"Your marriage, Your Grace." Littlefinger said, "Well, to be more exact, your lack of marriage."

Caspian laughed somewhat sheepishly, "Yeah, I figured that was going to eventually be brought up at some point." It would have been foolhardy of him not to think that now that he was king, someone wouldn't bring up the point that he was unmarried.

On their way to Winterfell, his father had once thought of betrothing him and Arya Stark, just like as he planned to betroth Joffrey and Sansa. Caspian had immediately shot down that idea. At the time, marriage was something he had absolutely no interest in, better yet of actually being involved in one.

It wasn't because he disliked any female companionship, on the contrary, he did occasionally lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh. It was just he had seen his lord father's and lady mother's marriage. It was filled with so much loathing, hate, bitter feelings and dysfunctionality to the point that it had skewered whatever views he had about the union.

Although he knew that not every marriage was like that of his mother and father, the Lady and Lord Stark's own being an example, he still couldn't shake his initial feelings about marriage, although now that he was king, he realised that it was most likely for the best that he was wed, much to his own ire and personal feelings.

But the question here was who should he be married to? He could already come up with two people at the top of his head that his councillors would say were suitable to be taken as a wife. Both would tie the kingdom they belonged to the Iron Throne and remove one supporter for the Targaryen in the east if she ever decided to make her way back to Westeros.

The amusing thing was that he was already on rather 'good' terms with one and the other was in the city, _Although I wonder if Arianne would still be on good terms with me if she learns that I cut off her uncle's hand._ Well, that was a bridge he would come to cross sooner or later, most likely sooner. Prince Doran's convoy had been spotted off the coast of Storm's End heading for King's Landing, and his informers in Sunspear had told him that Princess Arianne was with her father coming to King's Landing.

He suspected Prince Doran was bringing Arianne with him to see if her presence could influence him in someway to make it so that Caspian would take it easier on them during their treaty talk. It seemed to Caspian that he had been able to keep the two's relationship a secret this side of the Westeros, but in Dorne, not so much by the looks of it, _Her uncle knew, why not her father?_ He mused to himself.

Caspian placed his palms on the edge of the table and pushed himself away, "I know. I'll think about it. I think there are still far more important things to deal with at the moment rather than something as simple as marriage." From the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice his lady mother have a look of relief in her eyes at his words. He had seen flashes of emotion that were too quick for him to recognise but he had seen them. He wondered what that was about. He stood up, "If that is all my lords, I think we can end this particular session."

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**AN: Alright, no Dany POV this chapter, but definitely Dany POV next chapter. I just had to re-read my ASOIAF books to make double sure where exactly she's in during my re-modified canon. Soz boys and girls. Next time.**

**Anyway, leave a review.**

**TheForeverKing**


	17. Chapter 17

**Shout outs!**

**Silver crow: To be honest, it just came to me when I was trying to recall who the hell Jalabhar Xho was...which led me to reading about the Summer Islands and all that. Varys is already invested in Dany and Aegon, it would be pointless to turn his back now, he is in too deep.**

**Valliantice: Don't let the police here you say that, they just might get the wrong idea.**

**slayer1hello: Second year of uni and that particular week, I had to read quite the number of books for two assignments of mine. Good news is easter break is next, I'll have free time to update some more.**

**Hail Emperor Naruto: The ironborn never striked me as the smartest of the bunch. It would be different under the Crow's Eye, but Balon has a point to prove here. **

**Caspian will deal with Littlefinger and Varys later on, but he still has uses for them. He has essentially stopped Littlefinger from rising any further by fixing or somehow stopping whatever chaos he would use to raise himself up the power ladder. Varys? Well, Varys will get his comeuppance later on, so will Jaime and Cersei, but they'll be around for now, so just deal with them.**

**Dany has a low opinion of the Baratheons, the Starks, the Arryns, the Tullys and the Lannisters. I doubt she would willingly wed someone who had a link to being the cause of her living something of a life of vagrancy and let's not forget, the murder of her nephew and niece and the rest of her family in some way or form. Also, she has been living a life where she has mostly been given a bad view of said Houses by Viserys. So I doubt she would be eager to marry Caspian any time soon, or at all.**

**Politics is politics. It might be a result that might be morally wrong and goes against the grain, but as you said, either of those marriages would be an excellent political manoeuvre. Right now, Caspian is more concerned with restoring the Seven Kingdoms into a proper functioning realm and will do whatever is necessary. Then there is the threat of Dany in the east. He won't be one to ignore her, especially with the Reach and Dorne being of dubious loyalty. If he picks one over the other, he loses the other. He has to make the best choice that deprives a potential enemy in Daenerys a powerful and useful ally for the future. **

**I like the idea about a bride from other different Houses other than the main two, but I think I will most likely end up creating OC's and I rather not create too many OCs. I'm actually keeping a minimum of two OCs in the story, Caspian and Asher...for now that is. **

**TetrisLame: Someone could tell Dany that, but I doubt she would agree. She's all for her birthright and legacy.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/Game of Thrones_

* * *

Daenerys

The Dothraki culture was centered around the horse. That she knew and thus she was not surprised that the Dothraki called the sea, _the poison water. _They distrusted any water that their horses could not drink from.

She looked around her and saw the tiny fleet of near ten ships, _her _fleet. The fleet that carried what remained of her sun-and-stars khalasar that had numbered forty thousand strong, but now only numbered just some several hundred.

Her sun-and-stars had died and his khalasar had broken up into individual khalasars led by former _kos_ of her sun-and-stars, but these khalasars had chosen to follow her as their _khaleesi._ She would not fail them, she would lead them.

She looked around once more and noticed that her blood riders had wide, pale white eyes as they sat unmoving on the deck of the ship. She was sure that if their skin was not that of copper, it would be as pale as porcelain.

Dany couldn't help but find the sight in front of her somewhat amusing. Her bloodriders would follow her to the ends of the world if need be, but when they had left port from Qarth, their eyes seemed to show that they were sailing towards the plains of all the seven hells instead of Pentos as they watched the dwindling coastline and Qarth disappear in the background.

When a squall had hit them seven days in, she had heard them praying amidst the sounds of horses neighing, the pittering and pattering of rain, the howl of the wind and the booming of thunder. She had been sure that her bloodriders were not the only Dothraki that had been praying at the time. The other Dothraki would have been praying as well, all across the ships that they travelled on.

No doubt the sailors on the ships found the sight of the feared Dothraki praying something of an amusing sight.

But Dany would not be scared of a storm. She was _Daenerys Stormborn_. She had come into this world amidst the greatest storm Westeros had ever seen. Strong enough to smash the gargoyles of distant Dragonstone into rubble and turn her father's fleet into kindling.

The captain of the ship appeared beside her, "Wish this boat would soar like her namesake, Your Grace." He said in bastard Valryian. His accent strong with the flavours of Pentos, "Then we wouldn't need to row, nor tow, nor pray for the winds."

Dany gave him a small smile, "Just so captain." Groleo was an old Pentoshi master, much like his employer Illyrio Mopatis. She could remember him being nervous as a maid about carrying her three dragons aboard his ships. She could still see the half a hundred buckets full of water hanging by the gun whales just in case of fire.

He needn't have worried. Dany had been sure to that her children were properly trained and cared for. She would not wish for them to burn down her fleet before it had carried her back to Westeros and to her birthright.

Somewhere along the lines, the crews of the ships, from the sailors to the lowliest of ratings had taken up some queer fierce pride over 'their' dragons. Dany found that somewhat amusing, having seen them being initially worried about the dragons when they had first come to see them.

Viserion's scales were the colour of fresh, pale cream, his horns and crest a flash of gold that shined in the summer sun. Whilst Rhaegal was made in the green of summer and the bronze of fall. She could see them soaring high above her, circling each other as they tried to climb higher than the other.

She could not see Drogon. No doubt that he was busy hunting miles in front of them or behind them. Her Drogon was always hungry, _Hungry and growing fast. Another year or two, and he would be big enough for me to ride. Then I will have no need for ships to cross the great salt sea._

But that time was not yet come. Viseron and Rhaegal were the sizes of small dogs and Drogon just slightly larger. Any dog would have outweighed them, her dragons being nothing more than skin and neck and tail and wings, all lighter than they looked. If she were to go to Westeros as they were now, they would be nothing about them that would inspire fear into her enemies, especially the Usurper and his dogs. Her children would be easily killed and so she had to wait until they grew some more.

And so, it dawned on Dany that she should put her faith with wood and wind and canvas to bear her home.

The wood and canvas had served her well, well enough, but the ever fickle wind had turned traitor. For six days and for six nights, they had been becalmed and a seventh day was soon to be upon them with no signs of change or the coming of wind.

Magister Illyrio had sent after her in Qarth when he had learned of Khal Drogo's death and the disbanding of his forty thousand strong khal. When the ships had arrived, they had not been enough to hold the rest of Dany's khal that had decided to follow her as their _khaleesi_. They had, had to find other means of transportation.

Fortunately, Xaro Xhoan Daxos had been more than eager enough to be rid of Dany and her khal after the events with the Warlocks of Qarth and had donated several of his own ships to her. Most of the ships that were within her small fleet utilised both the power of the wind in the form of sails and man in the form of oars, but some required wind to move.

And in this becalmed state, the ships that utilised wind had to be towed by the ones that could rely on oars to move.

"I cannot see Drogon." Ser Jorah said as he joined her on the forecastle, "Is he lost again?"

"We are the ones who are lost ser. Drogon has no love for this wet creeping, no more than I do." Drogon was the largest of her dragon children, bolder too. He was the first to try out his wings and flutter his wings from ship to ship and the first to kill. Whatever fish that dared to break the surface would soon find itself speared by a gout of flame, snatched into Drogon's claws and eaten whole, "How big will he grow? Do you know?" She asked, curious.

Ser Jorah rubbed his bearded chin in thought, "In Westeros, there are tales of dragons that grow large enough to be able to pluck krakens straight out of the sea."

Dany found herself giggling in delight, "Oh, what a wondrous sight that would be."

"They are only tales _khaleesi._" The exiled knight said, "They also talk of dragons living to be thousands of years old and with that age, wisdom beyond mortal comprehension."

"Then _how_ long does a dragon live for?" Dany asked as she watched Rhaegal glide inbetween the sails of the ship. The fluttering and beating of his wings rustling the still sail canvas.

"I am no maester _khaleesi,_" Ser Jorah said, "But I do know that dragon's live for far longer than any man...or so it says. But the dragons Westeros had ever seen were the dragons of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and they died in war. It is no easy feat to kill a dragon, but it can be done."

The squire Whitebeard, an old man with white hair and an equally long white beard turned to look at her. Dany could remember their first meeting, when he had come to her rescue when a Sorrowful man had nearly killed her through the use of a manticore.

"Balerion the Black Dread was near two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator." He said, "It's said that he was so large that he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace. As long as he has food and freedom." Arstan he was called, but everyone called him Whitebeard. The man he served, Strong Belwas had given him that name due to his long white beard.

Dany looked at the old squire curiously, "Freedom?" She repeated, "What do you mean?"

"In King's Landing, your ancestors raised a great domed castle for their dragons, the Dragonpit as it is called. It stands upon the Hill of Rhaenys, although it is nothing more than ruins now. That was were the royal dragons were bred in the days of yore, in great cavernous halls. The great iron doors in the place was so large that it could be filled by thirty knights riding abreast." He took a moment to take a breath of air, "But it is noted that none of the dragons raised in that pit ever took the same size as their ancestors."

"If walls could keep us small, peasants would be tiny and kings would be giants." Ser Jorah said. Dany could tell that her bear was sceptical of what the aged squire spoke off. But then again, Ser Jorah was immediately suspicious of the man, "I've seen huge man born in hovels and dwarfs who dwelt within castles."

"Men are men." Whitebeard said, "Dragons are dragons."

"How profound." Ser Jorah had made sure that his disdain for the aged squire was well known by now. Dany could tell that their was something about the old squire that made the exiled knight's hairs stay on end, "What do you know of dragons, old man?"

"A little." Whitebeard admitted, "Yet I served at court in the time of the dragon kings, when the bones of the dragons of House Targaryen donned the walls of the Throne Room."

Dany came to life, "My brother talked of those skulls. He said that the Usurper had put them far away in fear. He said that he couldn't stand having the dragons look down upon him, seating on his stolen throne." She beckoned him ever closer, "Did you see my royal father?" She had been born not long after the war had all but finished and by then, her royal father had been killed by the Kingslayer.

Whitebeard did as he was asked and came closer to her, "I did have that honour, Your Grace."

"Did you find him good and gentle?"

Whitebeard tried to hide it, but Dany was astute enough to see the feelings he felt at the question. They were plain as day on his face, "His Grace...was often pleasant."

_Often?_ That didn't bode well. What was he not telling her? "But not always?"

"He could be very harsh to those that he thought his enemies."

"A wise man wouldn't make an enemy of the king." Dany said, "Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?"

"It was said that no man ever truly knew Prince Rhaegar, Your Grace. I had the privilege of seeing him ride in a tourney and afterwards play his silver-stringed harp in a great hall."

Ser Jorah snorted, "Next you'll be saying you squired for him."

Whitebeard turned to look at Ser Jorah, his eyes hard ever so slightly, "I make no such claim Ser. Myles Mooton and Richard Lonmouth were Prince Rhaegar's squires. They were both knighted by the prince himself." He took a moment to think, "Both boys were close with the prince. Young Jon Connington was also a dear friend of the prince but his dearest of friends was none other than Arthur Dayne."

"The Sword of the Morning!" Dany said gleefully. She had heard tales about the famous knight, back when Viserys had been kind and gentle to her, instead of the angry, weak and spiteful man that he had become, "Viserys told me much about Ser Arthur. About his wondrous white great sword and that he was the only person within the kingdom who was Rhaegar's only peer."

Whitebeard bowed at her, "It is not my place to question the word of Prince Viserys."

"King." Dany said quickly, "Viserys was a king even though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name." Whitebeard's answer had not the one she had been expecting, so she questioned him some more, "Ser Jorah has told me that my brother was called the last dragon. Surely he must have been a peerless warrior to be called such?"

"Your Grace," Whitebeard seemed to need time to find the words, "The Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but..."

"Go on. You can speak freely." She urged.

"Aye, Prince Rhaegar was without peer. Those are fine words they are, but words do not win wars." He said.

She was alluding to the battle of the ruby ford she realised. The battle that had resulted in the death of Rhaegar and the loss of the war. Robert Baratheon had been the one to cut him down it was said, _If he was a warrior without peer, then why was he cut down by Robert?_ The question danced around in her mind before she discarded it. She then realised that the Usurper's dogs would have had a hand in the death of her brother, _He had stolen a throne that was rightfully my lord father's and would have been rightfully Rhaegar's. Who's to say that he had no help in defeating Rhaegar?_

"Swords win battles." Ser Jorah said bluntly, "And Prince Rhaegar knew how to wield one."

"He did ser, but..." Whitebeard began, "I have seen more battles than I wish to remember and have been in more tourney's than I could count. No matter how great someone's skill is with a sword or lance or another weapon, there will always be others who would match them, or maybe surpass them. A man may win one tourney then fall to defeat in the next. Maybe due to a slick spot in the grass. All it takes is a change in the winds of victory for a knight to win renown," His eyes lingered on Ser Jorah, "Or to maybe win a lady's favour."

Ser Jorah's jaw tightened as he growled, "Watch yourself old man." He warned.

Dany had come to quickly realise that Ser Jorah did not take kindly to being reminded of the wife that had left him in favour for a Lysini merchant who could afford her extravagant life style. Dany knew of the story, of how her old bear had won a tourney with the lady's favour knotted around one arm, and then the lady's love when he had crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty. She had been beautiful, he had said.

She had married him...and ruined him. Ruined him to the point he had taken to selling slaves to increase his incomes. The memory of her made him bitter.

She placed a calming hand on his arm, "Be gentle my knight." She said, soothingly, "Arstan did not wish to offend."

The exiled knight relented, albeit begrudgingly, "As you say _khaleesi._"

They spoke more of Rhaegar and his accomplishes. Dany learned much more of the brother she never knew than what Viserys could have told her. Viserys had told her that Rhaegar had been deemed a warrior from birth, therefore it was a surprise to her when she learned from Whitebeard that Rhaegar had been bookish when he was young.

She had been delighted when she learned of how he had come to become a renowned warrior throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Whitebeard had said that one day, Rhaegar had walked up to old Ser Willem Darry and said, 'I will require a sword and armour. It seems I must be a warrior.'

Eventually, Whitebeard had to go his own ways when Strong Belwas had awokened from his sleep. Ser Jorah had once again warned her about trusting the aged man, and despite herself, she could not help but agree with some of the points that her exiled knight had said to her.

Whitebeard was rather queer for a squire. He was far too well spoken and far too old to serve as a squire for some line Strong Belwas. Magister Illyrio had sent Strong Belwas to be her guard, bringing warnings that the Usurper had offered land and lordship for whoever was to bring him her head, _Mine._ She thought. The thought scared her far more than it should have.

She quickly excused herself from the presence of Ser Jorah and made her way back into the deep cabins of the ship. Her bloodriders did not follow her, despite being on a ship for several days now, they had still yet to be accustomed to the rocking of the sea. Them and many of the Dothraki in her _khalasar._

She finally made her way into her chambers. Captain Groleo had bequeathed to her, the largest of the cabins, the captain's cabin for her own use.

Irri rose once she had seen her, "_Khaleesi._" Her handmaiden said as she bowed slightly.

"How is he?" Dany asked as she made her way towards the copper-skinned girl.

Irri took a step to the side to reveal a structure that was shaped in the way of a cot, "Sleeping peacefully _Khaleesi."_

Dany looked down into the cot and the baby that lay within, covered in furs. The baby had taken after both of its parents. His skin was olive and his eyes were shaped like almonds and beneath the eye lids, lay a pair of deep violet orbs and atop his haired, a tuft of silver-gold hair.

_Rhaego._ That was the child's name, _her_ child. In another life, her sun-and-stars would have lived long enough to see his own son grow and become the Stallion Who Mounts The World as the _dosh khaleen_ had prophesied.

But her sun-and-stars was dead, killed by the witch Mirri Maz Duur when Dany herself had saved her from being raped and killed. In return, she had killed her sun-and-stars and her son too if she had had the chance.

_Instead of a warlord, he will grow to be a king._ This she knew. Dany was no fool, she knew that many of the Dothraki that had followed her as their khaleesi was because the _dosh khaleen _had prophesied Rhaego as the Stallion That Will Mount the World. In essence, they followed her until Rhaego came of age and proved to them that he was truly this supposed Stallion.

But Dany did not care, in the long run, it meant she had more swords to her cause. Her cause to regain what is rightfully hers.

XxX

Margaery

It was strange.

Margaery knew that she was a hostage in all but name, yet she did not feel like it nor was she treated as one. At the news of her lord husband's defeat and the capture of him and many of his lords that had accompanied with him to take King's Landing, Margaery instinctively knew that there would soon be a royal raven from King's Landing bringing news that she had been 'invited' to become the King's guest in his court.

Well, considering how she was treated, things could have been far worse.

She was allowed to roam wherever she pleased as long as she had an escort of Baratheon or Lannister guardsmen. They always outnumbered whatever Tyrell guardsmen that went with her.

The king had also been kind enough to allow her to bring lady companions to court, although she had an inkling that was the king's own way of finding himself with even more hostages than Margaery herself alone.

She had wanted to go alone, but her grandmother had convinced her other wise. The rather noticeable Tyrell contingent of guardsmen and ladies made her feel more at ease.

Despite the fact that the Reach had supported a traitor, the people of King's Landing seemingly loved her. Although her grandmother was more of the mind that the people loved their food more than anything else, but nonetheless, Margaery did everything she could to curry their favour.

She had an affinity for the commons, but if anything, it was more of a cautionary act than anything else. If things were to take a sudden turn for the worse, it would be good to have the love of the people. They would more than likely cause more trouble, riot maybe in a bid to save her and her lady companions.

Although she did find herself in contention with the new king. For every two that wore the rose of Highgarden as a pin, there were another three that proudly wore a pin of a stag.

The new king was popular, immensely so. At his coronation, he had somehow been able to host a day of festivities paid from his very own coin.

Margaery found herself rather befuddled at how she had never come to meet King Caspian. He had spent time in Highgarden in his past a few times, this she knew, but their paths never seemed to cross. But she had heard talk of how the prince was handsome, gallant and would soon inherit Casterly Rock and the Lannister name when his grandsire soon passed.

In another life, Caspian would have made an equally desirable match to that of Joffrey. She remembered her lord father once wishing to betroth her to the Crown Prince, only to learn that King Robert was more intent on having his oldest son betrothed to the oldest of the Stark girls.

With that avenue taken out of their control, Prince Caspian had become the second choice, that was before Lord Renly had come to think and notice that she had a queer familiarity to the woman that King Robert had rebelled and started a war for. That had been the makings of another plot that simply bore nor fruit but instead ended up withering and dying on the vine.

Speaking of her lord husband who was still imprisoned in tower cells..."What will become of Lord Renly grandmother?"

"Death most likely." Her grandmother was quick to say without pause as she looked out into the coast from the pavilion they were sat in. The Tyrells had been quick to make one part of the Red Keep's gardens their own. The companions that Margaery had brought with her were everywhere to be seen, along with guardsmen that made sure whatever conversations that took place here, stayed between their intended parties, "Don't look so shocked girl, what did you expect would happen? That he would be allowed to go free, and everyone will leave a happy ever after?"

It took a moment for Margaery to find her words, "Well, no." She was no child. She knew the risks that came when she had wedded Renly.

"I would have expected as much. I didn't spend all that time teaching you so you can be an oaf like your father." She scoffed as she relaxed into her seat, "It was treason I told them. Robert had four children, three of them sons and in the worst case scenario were anything ever to happen to them, that man Stannis would be in front of him. But no, your father would not have it. He wanted someone of his own blood to one day sit upon the throne."

"Grandmother!" Margaery said, in an effort to sound admonishing. Although she knew her words would not have any effect on her grandmother. It was known, maybe throughout the entirety of the realm that Olenna Tyrell had a sharp tongue.

She was not called the Queen of Thorns for nought.

As she expected, her grandmother merely waved her off, "Well, at least we can still salvage the situation."

Margaery found herself intrigued, "Whatever do you mean grandmother?"

The Queen of Thorns leaned forward onto the table that separated them, "You still wish to be queen do you not?" It was more of a statement than a question. Her grandmother knew her ambition very well. She had been the one to nurture it after all.

She gave a curt nod, "Of course." But her ambition seemed further away that it had been ever since she dreamed of it.

"Good." Her grandmother said with a nod of the head as she leaned herself back into her seat, "There is still hope for you to become the first Tyrell queen and for your father's absurd ambition to be realised."

Margaery allowed a frown to come across her features. The only way for het to be queen was to marry the still bachelor king, but there was just one obstacle standing in the way, "I am still married to Renly grandmother."

Olenna snorted, "Yes, about that, everyone knows that a marriage not consummated is no marriage at all." She peered at her, an old barely noticeable white eyebrow raising slightly up her forehead, "Or did Renly one day find himself having a taste for summerwine?"

Margaey could feel her face flush ever so slightly at what her grandmother was insinuating. It took a moment for her to reply, "No." For no lack of trying on her part, and that of Loras. Renly could not bring himself to do the act.

Even though she knew that he was not interested in the fairer sex, she still found the rejection a blow to her pride as a woman.

"I thought as much." It was no secret. Even the soldiers and lords in Renly's army knew that Renly had yet to bed her when they had been married. Margaery did not know how they knew, she just knew they knew. She had heard them talk and whisper in the camps, in the castles and in the keeps, "As far as you are concerned Margaery, your marriage to Renly never happened. Unfortunately, Caspian is not going to have Renly executed. The man might have turned traitor, but he is still his uncle, he would not want the taint of kinslayer on his persons. So Renly is either going to find himself imprisoned for life or be sent to the Wall." Her grandmother took her hands into her own. She had done this many a times, but even then, Margaery couldn't help but be amazed at how soft her hands were, "Pray for the Wall girl. If he is sent to the Wall, that farce of a marriage of yours will be like it never existed."

But people would know that it _did_ exist, but that was neither here nor there, "That is cold of you grandmother."

Olenna gave her a look, "If you are to be queen girl, you will find yourself having to do many a cold things, maybe even horrible things." Her grandmother released her hands, "Now best be quick and get to know the young king."

"I am still married." Margaery pointed out. Trying to seduce the new king as she was now would be in bad taste. It somewhat reminded her of the tale of Ellyn Tarbeck who had seduced Tion Lannister when she was supposed to be in mourning of her recently departed husband, nor did that stop her from trying to seduce Tytos Lannister as well.

"That you are," Her grandmother agreed somewhat blithely, "But that does not mean you can know your new king, nor the person who will be housing you in their castle. All you have to do is make him know of your existence and that you will always be available." Her grandmother finished off in a rather vague manner.

Margaery had a feeling of what her grandmother was trying to impart with her on the 'available' part, but she decided to take it as innocent in deeper meaning.

"And I do mean it in the rather crude manner Margaery." Did her grandmother know how to read minds? "You are aware that Prince Doran is coming to King's Landing soon to treat with the king?"

Margaery gave a nod of her delicate head, "Yes." Last she had heard, the prince was still more than a week away from King's Landing as he travelled by ship.

"Then you should know that he is being accompanied by his daughter, the still _unmarried _Princess Arianne." Her grandmother stressed, "It would be safe to say that he may offer Arianne's hand in marriage to the king."

She bit her lip, "That's not good."

The Queen of Thorns could only nod her head in agreement, "Exactly. Especially if what I hear is true." She only had to give her grandmother a curious look for her to continue speaking, "Prince Caspian once spent some time in Sunspear a couple of years back. Apparently, during that time, him and Princess Arianne became rather close." Her grandmother took a sip of her drink, "And I'm sure you've heard of how Dornishwomen are so wanton. I don't have to say anymore what that means."

Her grandmother was right. She didn't need to hear anymore, _Lovely._ She now found herself having a rival in trying to woo the new king, but the rival had an advantage over her in the fact that she and the king had shared each other's beds. She best get to work quickly then.

She rose from her seat and gave a curtsy to her grandmother, "I shall be going then grandmother."

Her grandmother waved her off, "Good luck child."

XxX

It didn't take long for Margaery to find the king. He was rather close. Closer than she had thought to find him, in one of the gardens that was adjacent to what had been nicknamed as the Rose's Garden.

The king was sat in the shade of a large tree, a book in his hand. She noticed that he was alone, apart from two kingsguard knights that guarded the only entrance to the small enclosed garden. She could feel the two knights eyes on her, she wondered if they were going to stop her but when she neared the entrance, they made no move to stop her.

She laughed to herself within her head, _Why should they fear for their king? Especially from me?_ It was laughable. The king had already had a reputation as a skilled swordsmen and warrior when he was younger, but tails of his deeds in battle, in particular, defeating Oberyn Martell and Daemon Sand among many other skilled knights and warriors in their own name in the recent war that was coming to an end had cemented his place as a fighter of prodigious prowess.

As far as Margaery was concerned, King Caspian was the last person that would need any sort of protection from someone like her. It wasn't like she could harm him in any form or way and why would she try to harm him? She had no reason to.

"Your Grace," She said as she stopped a few shot places away from her. The king looked away from his book and looked up at her, his white locks swaying in the gentle ocean breeze. She gave him a curtsy, "Forgive me for interrupting your reading time, but I don't think we have yet to be introduced to each other." It was true. The king had been in King's Landing for a mere couple months now and their paths never seemed to cross, even when he held court.

Margaery was beginning to think that the king was intentionally avoiding her, even though he was under no obligation to meet her.

The king marked the page of the book he was reading before rising to his feet, the book laid down beside him, "No need. I already know of who you are Lady Margaery." He took her hand and gave it a chaste kiss on the back of it, "I should be the one apologizing. I should have at least come to greet you when you arrived to the Keep."

The king was being very gallant with her, then again, he was a king and had been a prince, so a certain attitude had been expected of him. She had heard whisperings of his older brother, of how he was a model of princely behaviour to others, but as in fact a monster. She wondered if the king was like that, _But I have heard no rumours about such. _In fact, it was the utter opposite. When people spoke of the younger brother, they spoke of him being a likeable young man, with a good head on his shoulders, _Best hope that head of his isn't all that good._ It would make charming or seducing him ever harder if he was quick enough to ascertain her desires.

She had best becareful.

She gave him the loveliest smile that she could muster, "I'm sure Your Grace had many an important matters to attend to rather than greet little old me." She took her skirts and sat herself in the shade of the tree, the king followed suit, returning to his previous position, although this time, his attention as on her rather than a book, "I suspect being a ruler is tiring work. Especially one during war time."

The king gave her a nod of the head, "Rightly so, my lady." He panned a hand around the enclosed garden, "But I do get the occasional off day such as this. I either spend it in court...when I feel like it, or read or train."

"I take it holding court isn't one of your most favourable of activities?"

"I'm a naturally carefree and relaxed person." The king admitted, "But there is a limit to how much smiling and making the odd conversation I can handle."

_If I were your queen, I would hold court as much as you want in your absence. _It would be a good way to garner influence among the lords and ladies who attended the King's court. It would be far more varied than the court held at Highgarden. Lords and Ladies from all over Westeros would be in attendance, giving her the chance to spread her influence far and wide, _Best not overreach yourself girl. You have yet to garner his attention. This is nothing more than idle talk with him._ But the idle talk would start as a foundation, a spring-board for further meetings.

This foundation would allow her to learn everything she could about the king. At first, she would need to learn his likes and dislikes whilst work to garner his confidence in her, then from there, who knows were their relationship could go? She found herself hoping, by then, Lord Renly would have already had his belongings packed and be on his way to the Wall to become a sworn brother, or better yet, already a sworn brother of the Night's Watch.

It was cruel of her to think such things, but in the end, in the game of thrones that Lord Renly had played, he knew the rules; everyone was a pawn for everyone else to use.

Still thought, just not to seem like an uncaring wife, it was best for her to ask about her lord husband, "If you don't mind me asking, Your Grace, but what will happen to my lord husband?" She asked as meekly as she could.

The king raised a black-haired eyebrow up his brow before answering her, "Well, he has a choice of either spending the rest of his life in the black cells, which admittedly is no life at all, or he could join the Night's Watch, or maybe exile to the Free Cities."

Exile? Oh, that didn't suit well with Margaery, not at all. Their marriage might not have been consummated, but even if she were still to remain in King's Landing as a guest of the king, she would still be married. Maybe she could ask for an annulment from the High Septon or Council of Faith, _Although that would seemly awfully desperate._

Apparently, her thoughts must have been as clear as day on her face by what the king had said next, a small smile of mirth on his voice and in his tone, "You shouldn't worry so much, I was just jesting with you on the last part. I have been told my sense of humour is out of the norm of most peoples."

Margaery would have released a sigh of relief, but she controlled herself and instead gave him a smile, a smile that was mixed between innocent and coy, "Your sense of humour is certainly strange, Your Grace."

The king nodded, "That it is." He gave her a curious look, "If you don't mind me asking, but this has been on my mind for a while now...did my uncle ever bed you?"

The question took her by surprise. She shook her head, "No. He swore an oath that he would not touch me until he sat upon the Iron Throne." A lie, but it was better than the truth of how she couldn't allure him.

The king held back a laugh, "Then you shall be waiting a while then, my lady. Even if he did win the throne, I doubted he would have been able to...perform...unless he envisioned you as your brother." He took a moment to actually _look_ at her, from top to bottom, "You do look a lot like your brother, my lady. One would mistake you two for twins. If you weren't wearing a dress and had such a lovely air and beauty about you, I would have mistaken you for Ser Loras."

"Your words are too kind, Your Grace." Margaery found herself saying, whilst thinking of a rather amusing thought herself, _He tried seeing me as Renly, unfortunately, his imagination could do nothing about my teats and cunt. _And the womanly figure she had. Nothing could be done about that. She had even offered to have Loras...prepare him for her, but Renly refused, his face red from embarrassment.

Margaery found herself speaking with the king for what must have been hours but at the end of it all, when the king had said his goodbyes and had left to take care of one duty or another, she felt as if she had made no progress with him. She had learned far less than she would have wanted, but she knew this was only the beginning, she still had time.

The Dornish princess was still days away from King's Landing and she could use that time to get to try and get to know the king even more. She would probably best ask her grandmother on how best to proceed next time. Clearly small talk was not doing what she wanted.

Margaery knew that she did not have to seduce him entirely, but make him want her more than he would want the Dornish princess. She would lay her roots, after all, a strong rose would be a rose that has patiently laid down numerous roots in the ground before growing in the light of the sun.

She would do the same.

* * *

**AN: I'm sure you all have questions about Dany and what, her surviving baby Rhaego who should have definitely died! So lemme break it down to you;**

**1\. Caspian was able to persuade his father from sending assassins after Dany and Viserys.**

**2\. This did not result in the wine guy trying to kill Dany, therefore, Khal Drogo didn't have a reason to go and attack the Lhazareen for slaves to buy ships for his khalasar. I don't know whether this was from the tv show or the books, but I remember something about him not wishing to go for Westeros until his son was born, although afterwards, he would be all for it. So that meant, he and Dany travelled around the Dothraki sea for a while and bam! Nine months passed and baby Rhaego came into the world and with the Stallion Who Will Mount the World, there was nothing holding Drogo back from attacking the Lhazareen for slaves in order to sell them for ships.**

**3\. Dany's khalasar is larger than canon, because once again, baby Rhaego, the Stallion Who Will Mount the World. The Dothraki respect strength, so it would mean nothing for them if the khal had a son, that wouldn't mean they would follow the son as their new khal, he would have to prove himself...but then again, they take advice from a bunch of old crones and those old crones said he was a prophesied child, so a large part of her now deceased husbands khalasar decided to stay behind and follow Dany and in that effect, in the future, the Stallion.**

**4\. Dany says that Illyrio was bringing her to Pentos because of assassins sent by the Usurper King. You should know that Illyrio and Varys are now deeply invested in her and want her to do things for them, so they will say whatever they damn well want to get her to move. At this point in time, Barristan and Dany aren't aware that Joffrey is dead and Caspian is king. Essos is large and news travelled slowly during the Middle Ages. She would probably know in the next few POV's of hers.**

**Well, that's all folks. I hope you have a good read.**

**TheForeverKing**


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/Game of Thrones_

* * *

Caspian

"You are a very scary man." It was more of a statement and a fact rather than a sentence more than anything else. Caspian sat within the confines of office, seating opposite him on the other side of the large, ornate oaken desk was none other than the disfigured Sandor Clegane, a man he had become accustomed to seeing being beside his older brother, before Joffrey went and got himself killed.

The Hound gave him a crooked smile, and the king couldn't help but think that even if the Hound's smile was supposed to be neutral, it looked rather evil taking everything into consideration, "You are much too kind, Your Grace."

"It wasn't meant to be a compliment." The king said in return, dryly and in deadpan. He shook his head, his white locks swaying with each shake of the head. Caspian had allowed his hair to grow out from the usual short manner he kept it in. It wasn't long, but it was getting there, "But that's neither her nor there." And he was sure that Sandor was already aware of that. He placed his arms onto his desk and linked his fingers together, "So Sandor...ever since my brother's demise, what have you been up to?"

Caspian had made Sandor into one of the commanders of the sorting parties during the Battle of King's Landing. He had given the admittedly scary man command of a company most compromised of quickly drafted and recruited gold cloaks, in other words, complete and utter amateurs who were as green as summer grass and had never held a single sword in their entire measly lives most likely.

_And even with the training given to them, they would have most likely folded so quickly it wouldn't have been funny._ And thus, Caspian had decided to give Sandor command of that particular group of amateurs. The Hounds reputation as a ruthless and merciless man was more than enough to spare the conscripts into fighting tooth and nail for their king and city instead of breaking and running away, which would have caused more problems than he would have liked.

By the time it was night and the battle was nearing its ending, Sandor's company had lost more than half of its man, but the remaining had all been bloodied on the battlefield and had become seasoned killers of men and battle, even if they had seen action in one single battle.

In fact, after the whole battle and the reduction of the City Watch back to its previous levels of two thousand, Caspian still had use for them and many others that had found themselves a taste for killing or had nothing else to do and needed a stable job that paid well for their services. It was better to have killers working for him rather than going out and causing trouble in his kingdoms as bandits and outlaws.

He didn't want to have another Kingswood Brotherhood on his hands so early into his reign. He could deal with something like that later on into his reign, like fifty years later.

"Nothing much, Your Grace." Sandor replied, his voice deep and hoarse and rough, "Just spending my time in the watering holes. What can a man do other than that when he is out of his work?"

"Well, you could have always come to me. I always have work for someone with particular skills...especially someone of your calibre."

The Hound gave him that crooked smile of his once more, "Why, I was under the impression you were not of my liking, Your Grace."

"I don't like you." The king admitted. In fact, Sandor Clegane's presence served to do nothing more than unnerve him back when he was younger, with that grotesque and disfigured face of his and his abrasive personality that made it rather difficult to actually like him, _Why was Joffrey so fond of him again?_ Ah, now he remembered, because Sandor would carry out his orders, no matter how horrible and ridiculous they were, _He had the Hound rape a girl once didn't he?_ He couldn't remember the reason why, but he had heard the whispers, "But I do like what you can bring to the table under my service."

The Hound leaned forward, one of his hands resting on his knee, "And what exactly do I bring to the table, Your Grace."

The king raised a finger as if he was about to list of the reasons, "You bring me your skills as a swordsman," Sandor Clegane was one of the most fearsome and fierce warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, fighting with a ferocity borne from deep anger that very few could match or could _even_ match, "Your reputation," He said, raising another finger. Once again, Sandor Clegane had a reputation, a reputation that in its most basic renderings meant that one should not ever be on his bad side unless they wanted to find themselves split from shoulder to groin with sword, "And finally, loyalty." The Hound lived up to his derogatory nickname of dog. He followed whatever orders he was given, no questions asked and was loyal to a fault, if he was used carefully of course.

Caspian knew how the Hound had received the large scar of the left side of his face, and had therefore figured that seeing fire in the form of the wildfire exploding on the Blackwater Rush would have done more harm than good had sent the Hound away and told him plainly what was going to happen and let him shack up in one of the guards room until everything was over.

"I'll be in need of all those abilities of yours." The king finished off, setting his hand back down onto the table, having never once looked away from the swordsman.

"Doing what exactly?" The Hound questioned, "Not your sworn shield I hope. I don't think the Dornishman would be rather happy about that."

The king shook his head, "No. Not as my sworn shield. As something else...something of a trainer I guess...a fellow dog trainer if you so wish." He relaxed into the back of his chair, "If you accept to come into my service, you will be generously paid and looked after." He allowed himself to give him a smile that seemed to have an effect on the Hound, "Maybe, later on when I have certain issues I want to deal with, I might even have to go climbing up mountains so to speak."

It took a moment for the Hound to understand what he was meaning. The dog gave him that crooked, evil smile of his, "Climbing mountain eh? I find myself rather curious." He gave him a look, "If I accept, will I really get what I want?"

The king gave him a firm nod, "Of course you can't climb that certain mountain fully since I would still require to claim it for myself, but you would be allowed to claim other areas for yourself." The Hound seemed lost. The king suppressed a sigh, _I suppose I went off a bit there? _"You can make him suffer him as much as you want as long as you don't kill him. Cut of an arm, a nose, an ear...holding his face to a fireplace, I don't care, as long by the end of it all, he has two working legs, can still speak and scream, and wipe his own bottom, then that's fine with me." Caspian knew that it wasn't exactly the Hound wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing. He still had use for that certain mountain, a use that would far better serve the whole entirety of the kingdoms rather than being the personal rabid hound of his grandfather.

The Hound took a moment to take all of this in before he finally spoke, "Very well, I'll come into your service, Your Grace." The king smiled. Sandor continued speaking, "What will you have me doing?"

Caspian removed a rolled up parchment of paper and passed it to him across the table, "That contains the details of what you will be doing for me. All you have to do is go there, show the person in charge that letter and do what is described for me."

The Hound took the parchment of paper and unrolled it. He took a quick read before raising his last remaining eyebrow at some of the things that were on show, "Well, I suppose this would be well within my skills, Your Grace."

The king chuckled, "I wouldn't have chosen you for this task if you couldn't do it Sandor." Caspian was all for merit and efficiency. He didn't want lackeys and lickspittles who agreed with him, he wanted people who could do the things he couldn't do for him. That was what defined a great leader, knowing what you can and can't do, and having the mind to actually surround yourself with the people who knew how to do the things he couldn't do.

The Hound had left not long afterwards and the king after he had seen the disfigured swordsman close the door behind him had taken the time to stretch out his arms to rid himself of some knots he felt in his shoulders and bring some life into them. Before he had taken to talking to the Hound about his continued service in King's Landing, he had been doing something he had figured he was going to hate, administrative work, in other words, paper work.

Apparently, during his mother's time as regent, she had never heard of actually doing such a thing as when he had asked her if there were any letters for him to sign, read and put his seal on, she had gave him a distasteful scorn and had told him that she would be glad to rid of the annoyance to someone else, even if it was her own son she had joked.

He had been surprised when it had taken three clerks to bring in all the required paperwork and he was starting to wonder what his mother had actually been doing when she was regent, _Nothing from the looks of it._ As he eyed the last of the letters and papers. It seemed he was going to be in his study for quite a while and every couple of days, two now that he had averaged it, there was always something new that he would have to read over and sign or throw in the trash for the sheer stupidity of it.

He rose from his chair, in his hand a glass of summerwine to parch his quenched throat. He had sent for one of his attendants to bring the next person he was supposed to see for the day. Hopefully, if things went well, he would be rid of another debt of the Crown or have it reduced substantially, _Should be easy enough. I've seen the man and he doesn't exactly as strike me as strong willed...and I know all of his dirty little secrets as well._ He was of a confident manner that he could see this done to, but he had to tread carefully nonetheless.

He walked towards the window that gave him a view of the front of the Red Keep and the courtyard down below. From the floor he was on, the people below may as well have been ants, but his eyes have always been good and he could make out some of the people and even recognise even more.

He could see the black and gold of Baratheon guardsmen and retainers who wore the colours of the House along with their own familial colours, to show their allegiance. When he had been young and his grandfather had given him a year to travel around the Seven Kingdoms, many a hedge knights and younger sons of great Houses, rich or impoverished had flocked to him to swear the swords for him. He accepted many and many of those were still in his service made up the bulk of his loyal retainers and many that had shown great skill and gallantry had become acted as some of his officers in the battles he had taken part.

Those hedge knights and younger sons were loyal to him because he rewarded their loyalty. He had been able to broker marriages for some with the daughters of lords who found themselves without a male heir, or recently, had given them positions as household knights to himself or lands taken away from the Crownlanders who had forsaken their oaths to Highgarden.

These were the men that he had come to know, that he had come to drink, train and fight alongst and because of that, Caspian rewarded their loyalty, and they had shown loyalty to him.

He then saw green and gold of Tyrells, both guardsmen, knights and companions to Lady Margaery, _She wants to be queen._ He had spent time with Lady Margaery over the past few days. She had this uncanny thing of running into her every now and then. The king was of the mind someone in his household, maybe an attendant or servant was telling her of his schedule.

It wouldn't be that difficult for him to find the said leak, but he found their interactions rather amusing. He found the entire situation amusing to be honest. Margaery Tyrell was a married woman, marriage consummated or not and here she was trying to charm or seduce him.

Over the past couple of days, she had been getting bolder than usual. At first it was nothing more innocent than small talk, then somewhere along the line, the ante was amped. She had started dressing rather boldly, wearing gowns that showed off an ample amount of cleavage and flattered her slender but shapely figure.

Most would have found her behaviour in bad taste, but considering that her husband never bedded her and the fact that he was soon to off into the black cells or the Wall, it didn't matter.

He deduced that she had amped the ante merely because Prince Doran and according to rumours and sources, Princess Arianne would be arriving in King's Landing soon enough.

If he would have a pick of the two, he wondered who he would choose, Arianne or Margaery. Both would be considered two of the most eligible women around for a king to marry, _Then again, I could find a bride from somewhere else._ But he doubted such a marriage would bring anything he wanted to the operating table.

He had to think about repairing a fractured realm and their was still the threat of the Targaryen in the east. The brother may have died, but the sister would still pose a threat if she were ever to decide to sail for Westeros and try to reclaim her birth-right.

The king stopped for a moment to think. The Great Council of 101 AC had effectively ruled out a female monarch from ever seating on the Iron Throne and by that knowledge alone, Caspian could have easily discarded the girl as a threat, but she was still a threat because of who she was and primarily, who's blood she had in her veins.

The Dorne and the Reach had both supported the Targaryen's during his father's rebellion. If he married one of the girls, he would take away a potential ally for the Targaryen girl. If he decided to marry elsewhere, he would have to deal with two regions of dubious loyalties, one more than the other.

_Anyway, even if this Daenerys tries to come and claim the Iron Throne, she would have a hard time for it. _The girl had allowed her brother to die right in front of her when she had the power to stop it. Such a fact would raise questions about her capabilities as a ruler and links would have to be made to her father, of whether she had showed the earliest signs of her family's well known madness.

Sansa would have been a candidate, but he didn't want to put her through living in King's Landing. She had many bad memories of the capital and she was sure that his mother had made enough of an impression to Sansa that the thought of Cersei as her good-mother would be enough to cripple her with fear.

His mother had been condescending towards her and had been playing wilful ignorance to every bit of cruelty Joffrey had put her through and had belittled her every chance he got from what he had seen and heard. The king did not want Sansa to go through that again, or this time, his mother would break her, or make her one of her own.

From what he knew of Arianne, she would not have become anyone's puppet and from their interactions, Margaery seemed to also be of the same mould.

The king took another sip from his goblet of wine. The summerwine tasted sweet on his lips as he looked down in the courtyard. He preferred sweet things, as clichéd as it sounded, they made everything sweeter.

As he was about to bring the goblet back to his lips for another drink, he quirked an eyebrow when he saw a carriage enter the courtyard from the portcullis. The carriage was being escorted by men in Lannister colours and the carriage also had the hall markings of being a Lannister carriage.

The king was confused. His mother rarely ever left the Red Keep, only leaving on special occasions, so that wouldn't be her, _And even if she did leave the Keep, she would have taken a litter or rode a horse._ She only used carriages for long distances, _Grandfather is still in the Westerlands._

A raven had arrived with news that Lannisport had been retaken from the ironborn with minimal casualties for the North-Westermen forces and large casualties for the ironborn before they decided that it was probably best for them that they took to the seas.

The raven had also borne the message that the king's grandfather would not be coming to King's Landing for a while yet as he was to remain in Casterly Rock to make sure all affairs were in order before departing to the capital and taking his position as Hand of the King.

_And if that was indeed grandfather, he would rather have rode to King's Landing on a horse rather than take a carriage._ His grandfather saw the world in a certain perception. Carriages were for the young, weak, elderly and women. A strong leader rode on a horse.

So if that wasn't his grandfather in the carriage, then who was it? He figured that he will learn of the persons identity soon enough.

_Tyrion..._ He could have slapped himself on the head until he realised the hand he would have used was holding the goblet of wine that he was drinking from. Oh, what was he going to do about his dear uncle? Tyrion was effective and he had truly shined as Acting Hand of the King, things would have been far worse if it hadn't been for him.

_I could make him an adviser?_ His input would always be valued, well to him. He didn't know about his grandfather and the other chancellors, _But from Acting Hand of the King to adviser?_ That was a large fall from grace. He would have to come up with something, _Maybe I should create the office of Deputy Hand of the King?_ He could always do that, he was the king after all.

A knock on the door attracted his attention. He turned around and saw one of his attendants open the door and step into the office, "The High Septon is here, Your Grace."

The king nodded his head and went back towards his desk, "Sent him in." He said with a wave of the hand. He sat his goblet of wine to the side.

The attendant gave him a nod of the head before he left the office, closing the door gently behind him. The king didn't have to wait long before the High Septon entered his office, all jovial and sweaty judging from the shine his skin had, _Did he get fatter?_ Was that even possible?

The High Septon certainly looked wider than the last time he had seen him in Storm's End when he had come to lay his father within the tombs of the Baratheons and at his coronation as king. It would have been an insult to cows to say that he was as fat as one. His stomach was swollen and bloated and dropped past his waist that he wondered how the High Septon found his cock whenever he wanted to relieve himself. As he walked, from underneath his cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver robes, he could see two mounds of flesh bounce with each step, he felt ill, _Should I get him a bra or wrappings for my next donation to the Faith?_ He looked like he needed it.

The High Septon came to a stop in front of his desk and the fat man gave him a plump smile that showed on his chin, all four of them, "Your Grace, it is such a pleasure to be in your presence."

The king rose from his seat and gave him a smile that he tried to make it reach his eyes, "I can say the same." The man smelled of sweet oils, but that did nothing to hide the stank of sweat and must and a hint of sex, _Clearly he doesn't take his vow of celibacy seriously._ He unwillingly held out a hand for the man to take and shake and he suppressed a shudder of disgust when the man's fleshy and sweaty hands enveloped his own.

When the king sat, he quickly wiped his hand on the cloth of his breeches underneath the table, _I will have to change my breeches after this._ The High Septon took his seat as well, and it creaked dangerously when he did. Caspian imagined the High Septon falling on his arse and back if the chair broke and imagined him some more as he rolled side to side on his back and rocking forward and backward as he tried to get back onto his feet.

The king started off by making small talk, "How have you been, Your Holiness?" He didn't really need to ask. He had done his homework in preparation for this meeting. He knew exactly what the High Septon had been doing for the entire past month and what he had learned was that the man was obscenely corrupt, him and many of his Most Devouts, _Then again, my mother raised him to High Septon. She would have made sure that she could bend him to her will._ So he wasn't going to feel particularly bad when he was going to make the High Septon dance to his particular will as well.

He already had plans to deal with the other Most Devouts. He had come to learn early on that no-one ever rose high in a bureaucracy without some skeletons in the closest, it was all a matter of finding those skeletons and who they particularly belonged to.

The man chortled, his flesh rippling with each movement born from the laugh, "Excellent, Your Grace. The gods are truly happy that this time of upheaval in the Seven Kingdoms is coming to an end."

The way he had said it annoyed the king somehow. It was as if he put the credit on himself, _He most likely thinks the gods answered his prayers._ Actually, that brought on a question of whether the man in front of him actually prayed, apart from the mummer's farce he had to do whenever he was holding a public service, "That is good to know." He gave him a small, sweet smile, "Now, shall we get onto business, I have something of a great import to talk to you about."

"Oh yes, do go on, Your Grace."

The smile persisted on the king's lips, "I was hoping you wouldn't mind forgiving the Crown's debt to the Faith or forgiving a substantial amount of it. The realm is now just coming out of a war..._still_ in a war. It will take sometime before we are able to get back onto our own two feet and debts won't be of any help in that department."

The fat man was shocked. He blinked owlishly at him for several moments, "Forgive the Crown's debts, Your Grace? I can't in good conscience do that. The Crown owes near a million gold dragons to the Faith."

The king nodded his head as if he agreed with everything the fat man was saying to him, "The Crown only started borrowing from the Faith a couple of years back." From what he had seen from their books, the rate at which the Crown had borrowed from the Faith to make the numbers meet was near enough to make him cry, "Before that, the Crown donated many gifts, your crystal crown when you ascended to the position of High Septon, your sceptre as well, a new gold and crystal Seven-Pointed Star among many other gifts. I'm sure if you were to take the total value of all the gifts my lord father and lady mother gave the Faith before we borrowed, you would find that it would be more than enough to pay of our debt."

The High Septon was at a loss of words. It took him a while to find them, "T-Those were gifts from the Crown! You cannot expect us to pay for them now, can you, Your Grace?"

"I _am_ expecting you to pay for them now. Everyone will be doing their part for the good of the realm, if you won't, I'll simply find someone else who will." His smile changed from being nothing more than sweet to one of playful, poisonous sweetness, "How is the Most Devout Raynard? I hear a lot of good about him." He let the threat hang in the air.

The fat man heard it loud and clear, "I-I can try, Your Grace, but the Most Devout will need convincing."

The king smiled, "I'll convince them for you. You are not the only Septon or Septa that likes throwing your vow of celibacy to the wind when buggering boys and girls." The fat man's face turned a red and with all that flesh on his face, it made him look like something of a tomato, "I'm sure that you will keep our conversation a secret Your Holiness? It would be bad for it to come to light and consequently, the realm learning about what you and your Most Devouts do in your spare time instead of being the pious men and women you are expected to be. Especially here in King's Landing."

The fat man lost all colour. The king had heard whisperings that the High Septon and many of the high-ranking septons and septas that served him were becoming rather unpopular among the smallfolk. Whilst people had been finding it hard to get food to feed themselves and their families, the High Septon simply seemed to get fatter and fatter with each passing day.

In fact, the High Septon was most likely the second most unpopular person in King's Landing behind Joffrey, who might have shared that ranking equally with his lady mother, the queen.

"I-I understand." The High Septon whimpered, "I shall broker it to the Council the first chance I get."

The king rolled his eyes, "Broker the subject anytime from two moons of now, but I want it done before half of the year has come. Understood?"

The High Septon bobbed his head quickly and meekly like a good obedient dog. After that, the supposed holy man had left the king's office and had left him alone. The king had sighed, that was all of his appointments for the day. He could have taken the rest of the day off, but he had decided to take care of his paper work.

It would have been bad form to let it grow under his watch.

XxX

Cersei

The queen sat in her royal apartments that she had previously shared with her now royally dead husband the kind. The room was one of the largest ones in the entire keep. It was decorated with Myrish furnishings, cerise rugs, gilded sapphire screens and furred long chairs. The room smelled sweet on incense and perfumes to keep the stink of King's Landing at bay.

A gentle, soothing breeze occasionally crept into the room through the open balcony windows as the queen lounged on her long chair, a cup of summerwine in hand.

Caspian was to be six-and-ten soon, in the next turn of the moon and then he would inherit the full powers of his status as king and she would lose her power as regent. Not that it mattered either way, her son had effectively destroyed what power she had in the small council meetings by either making the decisions himself, or delegating the tasks to her monstrous, vile dwarf of her brother.

Was this all her life was too amount to? A year in power and even then, things had not gone the way she had expected them too.

Joffrey had started a war and with her regent, the blame could be passed to her as well and no doubt, the maester's would write in their stuffy little tomes and books that the one who had stopped it would be her black lion.

Her face tightened at the thought. No. She was Cersei Lannister, daughter of Tywin Lannister. She was a Lioness of the Rock, she was to be more than she was, but her power rested in being _the _queen.

If Caspian was to marry, which he was, a new queen would take her power and she would be relegated to the position of Dowager Queen. The position didn't hold much power and things would have been different if she held some sort of influence on Caspian, but she knew that she had little influence on her white-haired son.

She had treated him despairingly when he was younger, tending more to Joffrey than him and the older they got, she started taking Joffrey's side publicly whenever they had a dispute. She had driven him away that he found it solace to be taken in by his grandfather rather than stay with his mother.

Even then, she did not mind, nor did she spare much thoughts to the son she had born first but had relegated to the status of second born. She cared more for her children with her beloved Jaime than her child with Robert.

She remembered the first time that Caspian had come to the capital for the first time after being away for so long in Casterly Rock. She had found herself somewhat disappointed when she had first met him. He had been lazy and far too carefree, she had been surprised her lord father had actually condoned such behaviour.

It was until that he unpredictably came to butt heads with Joffrey did she realises that Caspian was more than the lazy and carefree person that he was. When the two brothers had stared off against each other, Joffrey had taken a step away, because their had been an aura around Caspian, an aura that even Cersei could feel.

It was strong, fierce, powerful, bold, implacable and unrelenting. It was like Tywin Lannister.

Despite having the appearance of a stag, Caspian was a lion at heart. A lion that was far more than her beautiful, bold golden lion.

And she hated him for it.

She had cursed for days because she knew that her golden lion did not have that same kind of aura. After the anger and hate came a slow budding sensation of understanding and all the motherly feelings of love she had never shown her black-haired son came rushing to the surface, for she now definitely knew that he was a lion, a powerful black lion.

Yet, no matter what she tried to get closer to her son, she could always see the suspicion and wariness he gave her. And it hurt, far more than she thought it would.

She heard a knock from the door and one of her servants entered the room, "Your Grace, Lady Cerenna and Myrielle have arrived." The servant said after giving her a bow.

The queen gave a curt nod, "Good, send them here." She commanded before giving the servant a quick dismissal.

Caspian needed a wife, and what better wife than that of a lion of Casterly Rock, especially one that knew their place in the perking order? It was all too obvious that harlot Margaery Tyrell had her eyes on her son. Her spies had been reporting to her how she would take every chance she could get to talk with the king and that over the past few days, they have had been flirting and teasing each other and joking in a risque manner, _The girl is a harlot. She dresses like one as well._

Margaery Tyrell could not be queen, her and that Dornishwoman coming with Doran Martell. If they were to be queen, no doubt they would overreach themselves and both girls were women grown of age and from what she had seen, Margaery Tyrell was no empty headed hen like that northern girl Sansa Stark.

The same could also be said about this Dornish whore Arianne Martell.

Cersei did not like either Arianne Martell or Margaery Tyrell becoming queen. If either one of them were to marry Caspian, they would threaten the power of House Lannister and she knew that people were already starting to talk.

A boy of six-and-ten years of age had defeated her beloved Jaime in battle and had forced her lord father to retreat all the way back to the Golden Tooth and despite all that, Ned Stark's boy ravaged the Westerlands, his men pillaging and raiding wherever they pleased along with the ironborn as their father remained at the Golden Tooth, unable to do a thing lest he leave the Golden Tooth to fall to the river lords.

And if things were not bad enough, Caspian had roped the wolf boy into joining father retaking Lannisport from the ironborn. As if that wasn't bad enough, the sheer implications it would mean to observers would mean that Casterly Rock did not have the power to take back its city by itself and needed the help of a young boy no less.

The only ones who seemed to have seen an increase in stature and power during the war were House Baratheon and House Stark.

Caspian marrying either Myrielle or Cerenna would help increase the Lannisters power once more, _This wouldn't be such a bad thing if Caspian styled himself as both of House Baratheon and Lannister like Joff did._ Instead, Caspian merely styled himself as of House Baratheon and his sigil, now the royal sigil, was not that of a partitioned stag and lion like Joffrey's had been. She had tried to convince him to bare the lion of Casterly Rock, but he had refused her, saying he had always identified himself with his own personal sigil and banner.

Her door opened once more and in stepped two girls of an age with Caspian, _Or near there anyway. _Cersei took a moment to look at the girls. Both were comely and pretty, pretty enough to have men eating from the palms of their hands, both having the green eyes of Lannisters but of different shades and from their gowns, they looked to be of a shapely and desirable figure.

One of the girls, the taller of the two but only by a bit, had pale green eyes with a smooth heart-shaped face, a small, cute button nose and full, pink lips with long flaxen hair done into a single long braid that she allowed to hang onto her shoulder and drop over it on the front. The other, the smaller one's eyes were more of a vivid emerald than the pale of the other, her face longer than her sister's but just as smooth and comely and shared the same full, pink lips of her sister, but her hair done nice and short into a bun at the top of her head.

Both were dressed elegant gowns done in the crimson and gold of the Lannisters of the Rock.

Cersei rose from her long chair and made her way towards the two girls. She had a smile on her face as she did so, "Cousins," She said in greeting, putting joy into her tone as she took both of them in a hug, "How you have grown." The last time she had seen either one of them, they were only of eight or so years of age.

The two girls returned the hug each, "Your Grace." They both greeted respectfully.

They already pleased her. Even though they were cousins, they weren't too overly familiar and were already aware of their place, even though they were of a closer relation than the Lannisters of Lannisport, they both knew that they were no more than scions of a branch of the Lannisters of Casterly Rock.

But it would serve none of her goals if they thought of her rigid and uptight. She gave them a disarming smile, "Please, we're family. Call me Cersei." She said.

The two girls looked at each other unsurely, Cersei had yet to know which one was which. They looked rather alike, "That would be terribly rude of us, Your Grace." One of them said, the one with the pale green eyes.

They were pleasing her even more, as unintentional as they were, "_Cer-sei_." She insisted, "Come now, it's not that hard to say..." She trailed off for a name.

The girl was quick to catch on and blurt out her name, "Myrielle, Your Grace."

So this one was called Myrielle and the other one must have been Cerenna. Cersei had best make sure to learn their names quickly and remember the faces for the names, "I wonder what I will have to do, to make you call me by my name." She teasingly said as she led them towards some seats, "Come now, let us seat."

Both girls followed behind and took the seats offered to them. Cersei asked if they wanted anything to drink, but both shook their heads. Their meekness troubled her, but she attributed that to the fact that they were awed to be in the presence of _the_ queen of Westeros. She would have to do something about that, sooner rather than later.

But for now, she smiled as she made small talk with them, "I'm so glad that you accepted my request for you to come to the capital and attend court."

The quiet one, Cerenna's eyes immediately came alive, "We are very grateful for the invitation to the king's court, Your Grace." There was something about the way she spoke that reminded Cersei of Sansa Stark, yet she could see that in this particular girl's head, there was more than what that northern girl ever had.

"I'm sure you will enjoy your time here." Cersei said. She lessened her smile a bit, her cheeks were starting to throb and smiling so much could be taken as suspicious. She leaned in like she was about to gossip with her lady companions like she had used to do back when she was young, "And who knows, you might even catch the eye of some important lord," She saw their reactions and it was exactly what she wanted. She formed a mischievous smile on her face, "Maybe even the eye of the king himself." She finished with a playful wink in their direction.

Cersei quirked an eyebrow when one of the girl's, Myrielle, allowed a rosy tint to come across her cheeks. Her sister, Cerenna had a coy, knowing smile as she looked at her sister, "Myrielle would just _love _that." She said to the queen.

Oh? This was interesting, "How so?" The queen asked.

Cerenna smiled at the queen, "She and the king rutted once or twice or thrice whilst he was at Casterly Rock."

"_Cerenna!_" The other sister looked mortified and her face was a deep red of colour. She quickly looked at the queen, "Nothing of the sort happened, Your Grace. It was just innocent touching."

"So she says." Cerenna said innocently enough, despite her tone and the subject being anything but innocent, "Everyone else at the Rock thinks other wise, Your Grace."

_"Cerenna!_" A mouse could have squeaked higher than Myrielle at that point in time.

So Caspian and this girl had a history? Cersei couldn't help but find herself truly smiling at her ingenuity to bring both girls to the Red Keep, "Then I'm sure Caspian would be pleased to see you. Truly." She said, her head swimming. Maybe from the wine she had been drinking or maybe from the little bit of news the two girls had told her, it did not matter. It was a happy swim.

She gossiped with the girls, talked and made jests and laughed along with them. The better they thought they were on good terms with her, the better it was in the long run. She even took the time to show the girl's around the Red Keep. The castle itself was far too large to explore in a single day, so she promised to show tour it with them some more in the future.

When she returned to her apartment's Jaime was there, dressed in white and his cloak billowing from the breeze coming through the balcony doors. He looked beautiful.

When he heard the door open, he had turned and Cersei could feel his eyes on her. She could feel the weight of his gaze as it travelled from the contours of her face, to the curve of her neck and to the swell of her breasts. His smile then was sharp, sharper than he had seen it and his eyes had a hunger in them.

_He wants me._ This she knew. She wanted him too, but they had to be careful. The Red Keep had become far too dangerous as of late, especially with Caspian having his suspicions about her and with father soon coming to the capital to take his position as Hand of the King, meeting would become all but impossible.

So instead of smiling or disrobing, she allowed a scowl to come across her features, "What are you doing here Jaime?" She asked, her tone hard.

Her tone did not seem to affect him in the manner that she wanted, but then again, Jaime had always been a beautiful, laughing, golden haired fool. _Her _fool. He made for her, "It's been so long sweet sister." She could hear the desire in his voice.

She surprised him by backing away from him, "I told you, it's too dangerous. We can't meet like this."

Jaime rolled his eyes, "You worry too much." He said as he tried to take her into a hug.

Once again, Cersei moved away, "No, Jaime. _No._" Did he not know how much she wanted him as well? But she knew that Caspian had his own people spying on her, _Me and Jaime for sure._ Caspian always was careful and controlled, he never did anything without reason, much like her lord father. That's why she always had someone when she spoke with Jaime, or when they were alone, the meetings were quick and could not be of suspect, "Do you want both our heads removed from our bodies? People _are_ talking." No thanks to Stannis and his filthy, disgusting letter.

She had heard one of the rumours, of how her golden lion, the one impertinent little bugs called Joffrey the _Illborn. _They thought Joffrey cruel and sadistic, even though he was not. He was simply a strong, powerful ruler who was harsh, but stern and just.

The commons and lords at his court thought him a madman and called him names such as Aerys the Third, the Illborn, the Young Usurper because of his supposed parentage of the queen's union with her brother, like how the Targaryen madness was thought to have been caused by the Targaryen's dynastic practice of incest.

Jaime smiled as he waved her concern away, "Let them talk. What proof do they have?"

_A book._ But Pycelle was hard at work making change of that. She was making sure of it, "It's still too dangerous. Don't you think I want you too? But we can't." Especially not here, what if they were to be caught? Someone would have seen Jaime coming here and their meeting was already running for far too long, "You should leave Jaime."

He looked hurt and it hurt her, "You are sending me away?"

The queen chewed her lips, "We'll think of something. Until then, we have to be careful." She took a hand of his into hers, "Promise _me_, you will do none of this none sense of coming to my chambers." Her tone was firm and her gaze firmer.

Jaime sighed, "Fine." He leaned in for a kiss and Cersei allowed him it, but that was all. She had to slap away his hand when it went for the bodice of her gown. She gave him a reproachful look, Jaime laughed as he made for the door, "Sorry, my hand slipped."

Jaime closed the door behind him as he left, and Cersei wondered if she was ever going to feel whole again. She only felt whole when Jaime was _in_ her and as it went, that seemed to be very much unlikely.

She would also have to do something about Lancel, _And Osmund, and Osney, and Osfryd._ Caspian had cast them down from the positions she had given them, but she was sure that the Kettleblack brothers would use what they had done in some way to try and curry favour with her.

Lancel was a sod, she could easily threaten him into silence, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry. She would think of something in the morn.

* * *

**AN: Chapter 18 done and dusted. **

**By now you know the drill, leave a review! ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**TheForeverKing**


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/A Game of Thrones_

* * *

The Iron Captain

Victarion Greyjoy had to admit that the Redwyne fleet were a capable lot, despite their fear of drowning. It had taken more time than what they had expected to nearly make the Redwyne fleet redundant.

They had fought tooth and nail, even when they had known that they were outnumbered in the ocean waters. The ships of the Iron Fleet were the only ships in the navy of the ironborn that could go toe-to-toe with a ship of the Redwyne fleet. But to quickly destroy the Redwyne fleet at the cost of his own ships in the Iron Fleet, Victarion had also utilised the smaller raiding longships of the other ironborn to great effect.

The smaller ships had swelled their numbers against the two hundred strong Redwyne fleet but the sailors and soldiers under the service of Lord Redwyne had taken their pound of flesh from the ironborn.

_And yet we still do not hold the Arbor._ Lord Redwynne had been one of the few Reacher lords not to accept the calling of his liege lord and had instead kept his strength at home. And that strength was proving to be a nuisance.

The ironborn had taken some of the port towns of the Arbor and had burned many of the cogs and carracks and other ships in the ports and captured many more, but that was all. They had yet to fully take the entirety of the island away from House Redwyne and their banners.

But that was neither here nor there. At the moment, Victarion immersed himself in hunting the remnants of the Redwyne fleet. Although many of the two hundred ships had been sunk or captured, others still patrolled the Redwyne Straits harassing any ironborn ships that they came across.

Having set up a trap using himself as bait, Victarion had been able to lure several Redwyne ships to try and destroy the flagship of the Iron Fleet. The trap had gone well, themselves having captured two and sunk three but leaving the other four to make an escape, _Not on my watch._ With his squadron of ships, Victarion had given chase and for the past few days, he had noted that they were nearing the end of the Redwyne Straits and soon enough that they will be upon the coasts of Dorne.

He had to be careful here.

Ironborn influence did not go this far south and although the Dornish did not have significant strength at sea, the House of Dorne that had their homes on the south western coast would have ships and men ready to repel any ironborn attackers, no doubt by now having heard of the ironborn attacking and raiding all along the western coast.

"Lord Captain." Wulfe One-Ear said as he came to the bow of the ship. Victarion turned to look at one of his most faithful and skilled crew members and took him in, one ear and all, "How long do we intend to chase after this group? Dornish waters will soon be upon us."

"I know." Victarion said as he turned to look back at the Redwyne ships in the distance. He had to give it to them, they had continued retreating for the past few days without looking back. They clearly new what awaited for them if they turned to face them in battle, as unnumbered as they were, _Despite that, I would prefer dying with an axe in my hand facing the enemy, _"I also know that Dorne will soon be back under the greenlander king's peace. The moment we leave the straits, we stop and turn. Inform the other ships."

Wulfe gave him a bow of the head, "As you say Lord Captain." He said as he turned and made for the signaller to relay the order.

Victarion watched him walk away for a moment before turning his head to look at the backs of the Redwyne ships with their red sails. He watched them mesmerised as the oars dipped into the water in synch before coming out once more, with each stroke bringing an extra boost of speed.

But Victarion was observant enough to see that the speed of the oars had become slower and that there was seemingly always one or another oar that was out of tune with the others. The greenlanders were getting tired, it wouldn't be long now till they had no more strength in their arms to row their ships and could only rely on the wind and from there, they would be easy picking for the ironborn.

Speed that kept them out of the reach of Victarion and his reavers, _Cowards. They should just turn and fight. There is more glory and honour in that, than running away as they are now._

A seagull cawed in the distance. Victarion paid it no mind as he felt the Iron Victory lurch forward every single time as its oars dipped into the waters.

A glint of the sun in the distance of the horizon caught his attention. Victarion squinted his eyes before his slowly opened them in surprise and alarm.

He could see the silhouettes of ships in the distance and an entire fleet of them from what he could make out.

"Ships in the distance!" One of this crew, the man posted in the crow's nest shouted. Several other shouts of a similar kind could be heard coming from the other ships in Victarion's squadron. He quickly turned around and made for his way towards the mast that led to the crow's nest.

"How many ships do you see!?" He bellowed to the ironborn in the bucket-like structure.

Silence followed for a couple of seconds before his question was answered, "It's too far out to count them properly Lord Captain, but I definitely know it's more than we have!"

Victarion snarled to himself. He didn't need to see the standard the ships were bearing to know where these ships came from exactly, _The Royal Fleet. _The only other fleet of significant strength and size to combat and rival the Iron and Redwyne Fleets.

_Stannis Baratheon. _Victarion thought. How he would love to go and defeat the man who had bested him previously upon the seas, but today was not the day. The Royal Fleet numbered two hundred ships strong and Victarion's squadron was only no more than a quarter of the strength of the Iron Fleet.

If he fought now, there would be nothing more than needless death and defeat to come for him. He scowled and quickly began barking out orders, "About face! Retreat back to the Redwyne Straits!" He marched towards his signaller, "Order the same for the other ships." He glanced back in the distance and saw that the Royal Fleet was slightly ever nearer than the last time he had looked, "Today is not the day we face the Royal Fleet." He glanced back in the distance and saw that the Royal Fleet was slightly ever nearer than the last time he had looked, "Today is not the day we face the Royal Fleet."

Confirmations of his orders were given as the sailors and reavers went about their way to follow them. Victarion made his way towards the bow once more and glared into the distance.

The Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet found himself fighting against himself into leading his man against Stannis Baratheon. Victarion loved the seas and fighting upon them even more. He prided himself on the fact that he had become the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet by being undefeated upon the sea and Stannis Baratheon and his Royal Fleet was the only stain on his service record.

_We shall have our rematch soon enough Stannis Baratheon and I shall emerge victorious._ He promised to himself, _That I can promise you._

XxX

Caspian

Edric was the first to find him and he seemed to be stuck on either being perplexed or amused, "...What are you doing?" The bastard brother of the king asked.

The king didn't look up from the book that he was reading. Instead he decided to casually flick onto the next page, "Hiding. Isn't it obvious?"

From the way his shadow moved, Caspian could tell that the bastard was shaking his head, "No, I couldn't tell." He then took a moment to look around at his surroundings. They were at the top of one of the drum towers of the Red Keep, the furthest one located at the back of the Keep itself. Edric then turned to look back down at the king, "You _are _hiding." He said, in realisation, "...Why are you hiding?"

"I like time to myself every now and then." The king said as he flipped over another page of the book that he was engrossed in, "I could handle Margaery, then my mother had to go and invite Cerenna and Myrielle to the capital. I can't handle that." A visible shiver rolled through his body, "And oh yeah, let's not forget that Princess Arianne will be here soon."

Edric laughed.

Caspian was of a mind that this was not a laughing matter. He didn't have time to himself any more. Dealing with Margaery herself on her lonesome was fine enough as it was, but now he had to contend with Cerenna and Myrielle (Admittedly, it was more Myrielle than Cerenna, but the threat was still there) and Arianne would soon join that particular group of women vying for his attention.

The king was more than smart enough to figure out that his lady mother was the one behind bringing his two distant cousins in the form of Myrielle and Cerenna to the capital. No doubt, the king's lady mother was hoping that the king would take to one of the girls and take such a woman as his lady wife.

Despite all her faults, Queen Cersei Baratheon loved her family...as long as that family had a sigil of a gold lion on a crimson field with the family words being '_Hear Me Roar' _anyone else could go to all the seven hells. But frankly, his mother seemed to have a certain low cunning about her. She had all her priorities wrong. She cared about empowering House Lannister, doing such a thing would have bred resentment and jealousy.

_The seeds of rebellion and trouble._ The king thought before his thoughts went back to his mother, _I think she would prefer to being addressed as Cersei Lannister rather than Baratheon. _If memory served him right, his mother had been the one to convince Joffrey to partition his sigil into two. One half the black Baratheon stag and the other, gold Lannister lion.

But then again, she would have needed to do nothing. With all the notions of his mother calling Joffrey a lion, he was bound to think himself more lion than stag, _She rarely called me a lion. _He recalled, _And whenever she deigned to address me, it was as her _black _lion. _As if he had needed at the time anymore feelings of doubts at how he was different from his golden haired siblings.

He wanted to laugh at it all. Now that he thought about it, the more the allegations about his mother and his uncle Jaime seemed more valid. He all but believed in the allegations, the evidence had been staring right into his face now, but he just couldn't prove It.

_How did Jon Arryn and Ned Stark figure it out? _Stannis had been the one to put the seed of doubt into Jon's mind, but apart from his father's bastards, how did he come to conclusively know that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were incest born bastards?

Thinking of the entire thing made him feel ill. If people knew of the nature of his younger siblings birth, they would be looked on as abominations, unnatural things, but at the same time, he at least owed Jon Arryn and Ned Stark justice for their deaths, when he came to prove it all.

_Or I could just cover it all up. _Stannis wouldn't like that. Not at all. He would have to be kept quiet in one way or another, _But the man is relentless and implacable once he sets his mind to it._ There was only one way to keep such a man as himself quiet and Caspian felt like throttling himself for even thinking about such a thing, _And anyway, his death would raise questions that would need to be answered._

He slapped the covers of his book shut. He looked up at Edric, "So I take it you came here to tell me something right?" It was only too late did he realise that he did not set the book marker on the page that he was reading. He almost cursed loudly.

The bastard gave a nod of the head, "Uncle Renly's ship has left for Eastwatch-By-The-Sea. If the winds are favourable, he will be with the Night's Watch within the month." Edric had changed. Caspian could see it in him. Not long ago, when he was nothing more than three-and-ten years old and a year or so into his squire ship, he had been a strong looking boy, but lacked the strength his build gave him. Now he was lean and strong and with firm, strong muscles and puberty had come about him. Whatever baby fat he had borne before had now disappeared. His strong jaw was now visible and on the space between his nose and lips, Caspian could swear that he saw whiskers of black growing.

That annoyed the king. The king had yet to see growth of whiskers on his own face. It rather irked him to be honest.

"Is that so?" The king replied with an indifferent tone as he rose to his feet, "I guess it's about time. I know one person who would be thrilled to know that Renly is of north to the Wall." Renly and a rather hefty number of other people that decided to take the black. Most of them were criminals no doubt, criminals rounded up by the gold cloaks days before the attack by his uncle and his Reacher army among with other less savoury individuals and the other had been knights or men in the service of his uncle who would follow him all the way to the Wall.

Say what could be said about Renly Baratheon, but he knew how to charm someone into following him loyally. He may not have been an able battle commander, with more fire than caution, but he knew how to make someone follow him, that was all.

"I hear you refused to let Ser Loras follow him to the Wall." Edric said as they headed down the stairs of the tower. The two brothers were walking side by side, with enough room to make themselves comfortable between them.

"_I _can't refuse someone from taking the black. A man can wish to take the black if he so wishes." Caspian said, stifling a yawn from the depths of his throat and his book held beside him in a hand at his hip, "I just merely talked it out with him." That and he had brought up the subject with Margaery whenever they 'ran' into each other. The king was of a mind that the Lady Margaery had been the one to talk her brother out of joining the Night's Watch.

It was a good thing too. He still needed Loras Tyrell. Not for the nonce, but soon in the future, he would have use of him.

"Of course you did." Edric said as they exited from the stairs. The two Kingsguard knights that had been posted on the doorway that led to the stairs of the tower immediately followed after them several steps behind. The ones that were guarding the king today were Ser Balon Swann and Ser Guyard Morrigen. The king realised he mostly either rotated Ser Balon, Ser Arys, Ser Guyard and Ser Dantis for his own protection. He trusted them more than his Lord Commander, his own uncle Ser Jaime and the other one Ser Mandon, _The Kingsguard needs seven knights. I only have six. _He had a person in mind, but not yet, "I don't know whether Uncle Renly felt pleased or slighted that you didn't come to see him off."

The king's mismatched eyes drifted down to look at his bastard brother. Edric may have grown, but he still had to look up to look at his trueborn brother in the eyes, "Lord Renly is my uncle," The king then just realised that he wouldn't need to be thinking of his uncle as a lord any more, "But what would it look like if I went to see him off?" And it wasn't like neither of the boys were particularly close to the man either way.

"Well, a lot of things to be honest." Edric admitted, "But you would have seen something interesting."

The tone that Edric had used to speak had garnered his attention, "His ship didn't sink in the bay did it?"

Edric just had to take a moment to correct his feet before gaping at his brother, "What? No! What brought that to mind?" The king shrugged for his answer. The bastard shook his head as he sighed, "Several ships entered the bay not long after the ships making their way towards Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

The king didn't need to hear anymore, "They were flying the sun and spear of House Martell weren't they?"

Edric nodded as he gave the king a grin of amusement, "Prince Doran has arrived. And he brought an old friend of yours."

"I hardly think she would like to be referred to as old their little brother." He deiced to change the subject to something that would bring him some amusement, depending on how Edric reacted off course, "So I've been wondering little brother."

"Hmm?"

"Have you thought about your future?"

Edric cocked his head to the side, "My future?" He repeated. He then slowly shook his head to the left and right, "No, not really. Why should I?"

"You are a knight now." The king had personally knighted his young bastard brother himself after the Battle of King's Landing. Edric had more than earned It. He had fought valiantly and may have just saved the life of a royal family member when he took the head of the man-at-arms that had nearly taken the king's very own hand, "A lot of avenues have just been opened for you."

Edric's hand drifted to the shoulder of his tunic that bore his own personal sigil, "That I do." He said as he lightly traced his fingers upon his sigil. It was a quartered thing. Edric has asked the king for permission to use the stag of House Baratheon and the king had allowed It. Instead of a black stag on a gold field, he had the colours reversed. A gold stag on a black field chequered with a storm cloud. The young knight then looked at his brother suspiciously, "...You are not going to try and marry me off are you?"

"Maybe." The king was confident he could find a good wife for his younger brother. He might have been baseborn, but he had royal blood in him. All he had to was find the right person, maybe if he was lucky enough, instead of ending up as a Household knight as nearly all baseborns are bound to become, Edric would find himself the lord of some castle or holdfast with his own lands. There was merit in the idea, _That and the fact that Edric would be loyal and true to me only._ He would always be able to count and rely on him.

And with the fact that he had lost Edric as a squire, he had to take up another squire, or two in this case. His own younger brother Tommen and one of his cousins of the Lannister side, one of his great-uncle's twin children, Martyn Lannister.

Martyn was good enough as a squire and he already knew how to hold a sword and swing it well enough. He just needed more training and teaching, but he seemed to have a talent for it. He wasn't going to go on to be among the best, but he was going to be good enough that he would cause a problem for many.

Tommen was the problem. The simple reason being that his young brother was a plump little thing. And because of that, he had trouble doing some of the more finer things that came with squiring. The first he had done when Tommen became his squire was to have him privately trained by Edric to see if he could lose some of his plumpness.

He didn't want his younger brother, bastard or no, to be laughed at when he wore his practice armour. Like in Winterfell, he would be more round than anything else. No-one would laugh at him in public, but he was sure when the men and women were in their watering holes, they would laugh and talk of the plump prince in his armour waddling about like a turtle, _Or those strange black and white birds that can sometimes be found on the coast in the north._

Edric didn't seem to resist to the idea and shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever you wish brother. I'll be all for it." He then grinned at him. A wicked and sly grin, "Since we are talking about marriage, what about your own marriage? You've got those two Lannister girls, then there's now Lady Margaery, her marriage nigh-annulled and now Princess Arianne. Who are you going to choose?"

The prince sighed, "I'll tell you when I figure it out." All but two of them brought some kind of benefit to him.

XxX

"Prince Doran." King Caspian greeted with a smile on his face, "It's good to see you once more after all this time." He finished as he saw the Prince of Dorne being pushed into the room on his wheeled chair by his only daughter Arianne.

Arianne was dressed in flowing silks and jewels and other ostentatious displays of wealth to hide her lush and curvaceous body, _Her stately look. _He recognised. He remembered that she had dressed the very same when they had first met, although she showed a little more skin than she did now and after that, she had worn more revealingly and she had told him once of why she did so.

Although his view was blocked, he could see that behind Arianne, standing on the opposite wall in the hallway that led into his study was that giant of a guard captain to Prince Doran, Areo Hotah. His hair and beard were as white as he last saw them and behind him was that great axe of his, his ashen wife.

The door closed.

Prince Doran and Princess Arianne had made their way to his table. The Prince gave him a small bow, "Forgive me, my lord, I would stand but as you well know, the gout has made it rather difficult for me to stand upon mine own two legs."

The prince didn't need to apologise. Caspian could see very clearly how intense his gout was. The joints on his fingers seemed to have been growing round fruits. He had to hold back a wince, _It must be torture doing the slightest of movements._ Arianne had taken a seat beside her father and she was eyeing him. He ignored it, "I hope your journey wasn't too uncomfortable, Prince Doran."

The Prince of Dorne shook his head, "No. The sea was fairly calm and I had my maester on hand to help ease the pain when the rougher patches of the seas were about."

The king gave a nod before turning to look at Arianne, "Forgive my rudeness for greeting you so late, my lady."

Arianne gave him a smile. A smile that he had become quite familiar too. The one she had given him whenever they had been together, "It's not to worry about, Your Grace. My father is the more important of the two of us anyway."

"If you say." The king said with something of an amused smile on his face.

The Prince of Dorne did his best to ignore the look that was shared between the young king and his daughter, "I hope you don't mind if my daughter stays with us to hear the commencing talks. She is the heir to Sunspear and Dorne. I suppose matters such as this will teach her more about rulership than books ever could."

"I don't mind at all." The king said, giving his consent to the arrangement. Although the king was of the mind that Prince Doran was of the mind that the presence of Arianne would help with the following negotiations be slightly more favorable towards Dorne, _If that's the case, he is highly mistaken. _The king planned to be highly impractical about how he was going to handle this entire affair, "Let's hope that Princess Arianne's beauty doesn't distract me." He said in a light-hearted joking manner, with an equally light-hearted smile.

Prince Doran gave him a smile, "Yes, let's."

The king wringed his hands together on the oaken table that sat between him and the two Dornish persons in front of him. He tried his best to ignore the smiles and looks that Arianne was sending him, _Of course she would find this amusing. She has always known about my aversion to the throne._ Him being king must have amused her greatly, "I suppose the first topic on the list and on top of priority would be the captured lords, no?"

The gout blighted prince gave a quick, firm nod, "Yes. Many of Dorne's Houses are worry about their scions who fought in the Battle of the Prince's Pass." The king could hear some strain in his words. Although he showed an even expression, Prince Doran feared for his brother.

_He lost his precious sister, along with her children. _Prince Doran was cautious as he was prudent. Caspian was of the mind that losing his younger brother would be enough to push him over the edge, _And if not, hang him precariously at the precipice. _The king went through a stack of papers before pulling out one such paper and passed it to the Prince of Dorne, "That paper contains a list of all the lords and lordlings that were captured in the in the battle and whose care they are underneath. For the release of the lords and lordlings themselves, their families will have to negotiate with the storm lords who hold them. Although I'll be willing to release Prince Oberyn, Cletus and Archibald Yronwood for free."

Caspian saw Prince Doran wince as he grabbed the paper and studied it for a moment. The movement of moving his hands to get to the paper must have been what had caused him the pain. He then passed the paper to his daughter not long afterwards, "You are willing to release what some would consider three of your most valuable hostages for free without ransom?" The prince enquired.

He was alluding to the Crown's debt, the king was quick to note, as subtle as the reference was. How alluding to such a thing was of benefit to him, Caspian was not sure, but he it was of no matter. The Crown's debt was not as bad as he had thought it was, or as it originally was. Now it was far more manageable and from what Littlefinger and Tyrion had told the king, they would soon be seeing a larger difference in the margin between their costs and taxes.

"The ransoms for the other lords alone will be enough to make up for it." Prince Oberyn, Cletus and Archibald were only three of many. Storm's End was host to many other son's of Houses of Dorne and many knights as well who belonged to noble Houses themselves or were willing to pay for their own release. He smiled at the ruler of Dorne, "And anyway, I suppose House Martell would need the money for something else."

The prince's features tightened slightly and for the first time, Arianne didn't have that mirthful look on her face that she had been having, "Such as?" The prince asked.

The king merely gave his opposite an even smile as he passed another parchment of paper across the oaken table. The paper glided effortlessly to the other side with little resistance, "I think this will explain it all." He said, as he stopped gliding the paper across the table.

The Prince of Dorne looked down at the parchment of paper cautiously before picking it up. Once more, he did his best to hide the wince of pain that came from his gout ridden fingers. He brought the paper to his face and read, a small, barely noticeable frown coming across his face, "House Martell is to adopt the Crown's debt to the Iron Bank?"

The king gave him a firm nod, "Yes."

Once more, Prince Doran passed the paper to Arianne, "Sunspear does not possess the same level of wealth that could be found in Highgarden or Casterly Rock."

"Maybe so," The king agreed, "But it is one of the richer Houses among the Great Houses. And anyway, the amount that you are to adopt is not necessarily a large amount. I have seen the numbers when it comes to the incomes of Dorne, the debt should be easily paid off in a small number of years." He leaned in his chair, "There is a representative of the Iron Bank in King's Landing if you want to talk some more about the matter."

"No, it's fine."

Prince Doran was a prudent and smart man Caspian knew. Some lords would have fought over such a term, Prince Oberyn would have ripped up the contract and agreement right in front of his face the moment he had read the first line of words, but Doran was of a different sort. Caspian knew that Doran was well aware that there was really nothing he could do when it came to the terms that were being offered to him.

He did not have a strong bargaining position and the king was of the mind some if not, many of his bannermen had petitioned for him to quickly negotiate a return to the king's peace and secure the releases of many husbands, probable heirs and many family members to the Houses of Dorne, even more so with the knowledge that his brother was held captive.

In other words, Prince Doran could do nothing but accept the hand that was fed to him.

_It would have been much better if we had been able to secure Quentyn Martell. _During the battle, he had heard reports of a squire flying the colors of a member of House Martell, but he had somehow been able to escape capture and death when the Dornish host was finally routed.

"Another matter Prince Doran," The king said, gaining the two's attention, "My lords will be rather bemused if we came to an agreement of terms if I didn't take a hostage."

For the first time since she had entered his office, Arianne spoke up, "You allowed the North to return to the king's peace without taking a hostage."

She had a point. And the king already had a counter to that. It had been a good thing that he had thought someone would bring up that point sooner or later, "What occurred between the North and the Crown was a mild misunderstanding. Lord Robb was merely making his way to King's Landing to deal with the entire situation that was happening with his father. Of course, taking into account the last time that a Stark traveled south, you would understand his caution at bringing a larger than normal guard detail." The counter was weak, but it was a counter none the less.

Arianne didn't seem amused, "I doubt a guard detail of thousands of men strong can be considered larger than normal."

He gave her a sheepish grin along with a shrug, "It is what it is." He schooled his features, "And if you really want a reason, then one might say that Lord Robb had a reason to march towards King's Landing with that larger than normal host." He eyed Prince Doran especially, "What exactly was your reason in tipping your hat in the direction of a usurper anyway?" Caspian could make a guess and he was sure he would only need one go in making sure that it was the correct guess.

"Vengeance. Justice." Prince Doran replied as cool as ice.

The king frowned slightly. The subject of Elia and her children was something of a sore spot when it came to him, "I can't promise you vengeance...maybe, but I suppose I can promise you justice."

Prince Doran's eyes widened. So too did Arianne's, "...What do you mean?" The prince's voice tried to sound the same even and calm that it was. But the king could hear some hopefulness.

The king shifted in his seat, "A number of the Riverlords are asking for the head of the Mountain." The Mountain had burned, raped and pillaged his way through the Riverlands, on the orders of his grandfather no doubt. Ser Brynden had been telling him that before he had left Riverrun, many of the lords of the Riverland wanted some form of justice be visited upon the giant of a man. No doubt, some wanted justice to go straight to the man who gave the orders, but Caspian was of the mind that would never happen. Instead, he planned to use the Mountain as a scape goat or the fall guy depending on who was asked, but such an endeavor would have to wait until his grandfather returned to the capital.

"Dorne has been crying for justice for Elia and her children for seven-and-ten years," Prince Doran says slowly, "But the Riverlords make a clamor and you are quick to answer?" The king could hear the anger in the prince's voice.

The king stopped himself from frowning. Caspian realized the way that he had said it could be taken as an insult to the person with who he was speaking too. He quickly made his way to try and repair whatever damage he might have caused. The talks had been going rather pleasant, it would be for nought if they soured here right, "I meant no offense." The king apologised, "I was merely stating that Dorne and your family will soon be receiving the justice that you have wanted." _Although I suspect the Mountain will not be enough. _"Or did I mistake the fact that the Mountain dying at the hands of the King's Justice was a good thing?"

Prince Doran looked at him straight in the eyes. His gaze firm and hard, the same for the king's own gaze from his mismatched eyes. They locked eyes for what seemed to be millennia before Prince Doran spoke, "My apologies. The fatigue from the travel got the better of me, Your Grace."

The king shook his head, "No. It's my mistake for holding talks so soon after your journey. I should have known better." Humility had its own ways of doing things, "We should hold the talks for now. Continue on a later date when you are well rested from your journey."

Prince Doran gave a nod of his head and said his goodbyes. The same for Arianne who had stopped giving him her personal smile, but the one expected from a princess on stately business.

Once again, the king wondered why exactly had Prince Doran allowed Arianne to stay with him throughout the proceedings? Of course the notion that Prince Doran had hoped that Arianne would be able to influence him somehow with her mere presence alone came to the forefront of his mind, that thought and reason alone wasn't enough to satiate him.

The entire thing puzzled him. The king gave a shrug as he sat in his kingly chair of black leather and golden oaken wood, _It doesn't matter. Whatever game the prince is playing will soon come to light sooner or later._

* * *

**_AN: Right, exams are coming up soon i.e. next month so for the foreseeable future, I'll be studying more and updating less. My entire forte has always been on exams rather than essays, so my entire passing credit for my course (Rather over-exaggeration there but oh well) depends on me acing these exams. So once again, I'll be doing more revising and studying rather than updating a story I do in my spare time. I might update here and there, but not as frequent._**

**_Peace._**

**_TheForeverKing_**


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/A Game of Thrones_

* * *

Arianne

Princess Arianne of Dorne knew that as the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing was a large city. She had been left breathless when she first saw it from a distance when they were arriving into the Blackwater. Even from a distance, it did nothing but dwarf the size of Sunspear and as she got closer to the city, she was able to get a good view of the Red Keep standing atop Aegon's High Hill, along with the Dragonpit and the Great Sept of Baelor as they stood atop their own respective hills, named after Aegon's sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya.

Admittedly, Arianne had never left the boundaries of Dorne. She had once tried to travel to Riverrun with her bastard cousin, Tyene Sand so that she could force a marriage to Edmure Tully, but her uncle Oberyn had been quick to catch-up to them and bring her back to her lord father.

She remembered those days bitterly. She had been the princess of Dorne, the heir to Sunspear and yet her father had been half-assed when it came to finding a match for her. She saw the men that he had offered her hand to and heard him say their names to her.

She had rejected all of them. They were old or far too low of a birth for someone of her standing. That, and the knowledge that the ages of some of them worried her that they would most likely die the moment when it came to the bedding, much like how Ossifer Plum died whilst bedding Princess Elaena Targaryen, or if the stories to be true, had died when he had seen her in all of her nakedness.

Now that she thought about it, she had heard news that some newly wedded lady from the Vale of Arryn had found herself left widowed after her husband had died whilst bedding her. Arianne couldn't help but had found the news rather amusing when she had learned of it.

Her awe for the city had quickly disappeared when she was introduced to the city's stench. The smell that came from the city irritated her nose when she and her father had made their way towards the Red Keep.

She had thought that she was going to have to deal with it all the way to the Red Keep, but the moment they entered the castle itself, the stench had gone. She was soon to learn that if not the entirety of the castle, then most of it was kept well scented, fragranced and oiled to keep the stench of the city far below away.

Arianne was glad. Whatever they were doing to keep the stench away, she prayed that they kept doing it. She loved breathing in air that smelled of flowers and scented oils instead of sweat, smoke and shit.

Apart from the stench of the city below it, the Red Keep was idyllic. The gardens were beautiful, although not as beautiful as the Water Gardens of Dorne, were you could see butterflies flapping their wings and the buzzing of bees as they went about collecting nectar and the singing of jaybirds among others.

The court of the king was also grand, much grander than the one she had always attended to in Sunspear. There were far more lords and ladies from all across the Seven Kingdoms. From the Crownlands, the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn and the North. Although she would admit that lords and ladies from the Riverlands, the Vale and the North were lower in number than the other lords from the other kingdoms.

The lords of the North were only at court to attend the oncoming celebrations of the king's coming of age on his sixteenth name-day, and coming with them would be the new Warden of the North, Lord Robb Stark.

It was said among the courtiers that the reason why the North and the Riverlands had come out of the war with so favourable terms was because that the king and the new Lord of Winterfell held a friendship that was as close as their respective lord father's had been.

Arianne found that rather annoying. She had been fucking Caspian Baratheon ever since he washed up in Dorne near two years ago and their relationship seemed to not influence him at all when it came to the treating between him and her lord father.

She refused to think that Caspian found her dull when it came to the play in between the sheets. He had always taken to their passionate meetings with a strong sense of vigour and life.

Despite the pageantry of the Red Keep and the king's court, Arianne would find herself more at ease with the damned castle far behind her. Behind all the pretty little, bright colours and courtesies and the smiles and the pageantry, she could smell and see the treachery.

She knew that everyone who called the damned castle home was a player, a player of the game of thrones. She couldn't help but smile when she thought of it. If these people were thinking that they would play the game of thrones with Caspian as king, they were in for a rude awakening.

Caspian could play the game as well as the lot of them. He had a terrifying ability of achieving anything that he wanted if he ever cared to put his mind to it. He was just terribly lazy and was the spirit of the sloth.

The Princess of Dorne was surprised that he hadn't even thought of abdicating and leaving the throne to his younger brother yet. He honestly seemed to be diligently doing his duty as king, which had come as a surprise to her.

_It would be far easier for him if he had a queen to share the work with. _She could be that kind of queen, but did she want to be queen?

She had once broached the subject of her marrying Caspian to her lord father after the young prince had left Sunspear. Prince Doran had merely said that "I'll think about it." Arianne had been confused and incredulous. The princess thought that she had a right to be incredulous and confused. What was there to think about? Caspian was a prince and the heir to Casterly Rock. He was about a good a match as any.

She had fumed and ranted to Tyene and as ever, her sweet cousin had decided to be her voice of reason and calm, "You forget that Tywin Lannister killed Elia and her children and Robert Baratheon climbed onto his throne on the bodies of his niece and nephew." She had said, her voice soft and pure and innocent, "Our prince does nothing more than sit and think, yes, but I doubt even he has forgotten about Elia. I doubt that he would want to marry his precious princess the blood of Lord Tywin and King Robert."

"I suppose." Princess Arianne had replied, her steam taken out of her but she still fumed silently.

_Why did father bring me here?_ He had said that it was to teach her how to rule, but she knew the truth of that. Her father wanted Quentyn to rule Dorne instead of her, she had seen the letters, yet her presence in the capital puzzled her. She spent most of her time in the court and gardens rather than with her father treating with Caspian, _Did he just bring me here in the hopes that I'll be an influence on Caspian? _If that had been the case, her father's plans had worked out splendidly. Arianne had the king waiting on her hand and foot every single day, _I haven't even had a moment alone with Caspian. _She didn't know why, but that troubled her more than she thought it would. In fact, she was more surprised that it troubled her at all.

She found herself seeing a familiar face. She smiled as she made way toward them, "Asher." She said in greeting. Her fellow Dornish turned his head to look at her as she came to a stop beside him. He just continued to stare at her, "Aren't you going to greet me? You always didn't have any manners."

Asher was sat upon one of the benches that littered the royal gardens. The sellsword was dressed in most black and red, colours that didn't seem to suit the sunny weather, but she figured that it was proper. Every now and then, there would come a breeze that would bring a shudder from Arianne.

The sellsword from Dorne sighed as he ran a hand through his blackish-brown hair, "What do you want Arianne?" He asked, looking away from her, "I'm busy."

Arianne took a moment to look around before looking back at him with a dry look, "Yes, I can see that. You are really busy standing here doing nothing. Aren't you supposed to be the swornshield of the king?"

He gave her a nod of the head, "Yes, I am. What of it?"

"Then why aren't you guarding the king?" She asked.

"He's got seven knights for that." He was referring to the Kingsguard, Arianne reliased. But she had counted them in her free time and she was sure that they were only six. Was there a seventh who didn't like showing his face? He looked at her with a small wolfish grin, "I've been promoted you see. I now don't have to follow the king around like a lost puppy. I get more free time to do whatever I want."

Arianne gathered her skirts before taking a seat on the bench that the sellsword sworn-shield sat upon, "So what is this new job of yours then?" Arianne would never be full enough to call Asher a friend. They had known each other from their time in the Water Gardens of Dorne. They had played with each other, the same with every other child.

She had known that he was a bastard, but her father had never told him who's bastard he was, neither did Asher talk about it. The other children had made a game of trying to guess who Asher's father was or even who his mother was, but if they ever guessed right, they would have never known. Asher was a person who rarely gave little away with his facial expression at the time, all aloof and indifferent.

When he was twelve, he had run away from the Water Gardens and had disappeared, only to reappear several years later, all grown and deadly from his time in Essos, but still unwilling to even talk about him.

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with mischief and mirth, "Are you trying to get information out of me Arianne?"

She should have corrected him and told him that it was rude to call her such. She was a princess, a Princes of Dorne and she was to be addressed correctly, but she realised that Asher wouldn't give the slightest care in the world, "I'm merely making conversation." She replied, a small smile on her lips.

Several people passed them as they spoke. Arianne did not make a habit of observing the people as they walked past like Asher was doing, but she had been able to notice the green and gold of Tyrells, the red and green and gold of both branches of the Fossoways, the grey and gold of Rowan, the red and gold of Lannister among many other colours.

She noted that their were more reachmen and westermen and stormlanders than their were of other Houses. She couldn't think of any Dornish houses that were already in King's Landing that she and her father had brought along.

The sky slowly darkened as a cloud move to cover the sun from the rest of the world. Asher spoke again, "And here I thought you were going to try and pry information about Caspian." He said, trying to stifle a yawn. Did she bore him? "You being one of his supposed suitors anyway."

Suitors? She couldn't help but allow a laugh to escape her lips, "I don't know about that." Her father seemed to be more interested in other matters rather than who she should be marrying, "And if it was to say that I was one of his potential suitors, do I have a chance?"

Asher turned his head to give her a queer look, "Well," He began. By now, the cloud that had been covering the sky had flown past and the gardens were covered in rays of sunshine once more. Arianne was of a mind that she hoped this sort of weather would last for a couple more moons, even years. Winter could wait, "You definitely have an advantage over his other suitors, that's for sure, but..." He shrugged.

Arianne wasn't satisfied with that, "But...?" She trailed off, trying to urge him to finish off his sentence.

Asher didn't end up finishing his sentence. He merely got up and flashed her a smile, "Well, would you look at the time of the day, I have duties to take care off. Bye now, Arianne. Say hi to those cousins of yours for me." He said in parting before leaving her alone.

Arianne looked after him before sighing. Well, she had hoped that she would find something of interest to do today and Asher was about as interesting as they came. Now he had just gone and left her on her lonesome, what was she to do now?

* * *

Jaime

_Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. _The thought of him being the commander of the Kingsguard was rather queer to Jaime. In all his life and dreaming, he would not have thought of the man the realm called the Kingslayer to become Lord Commander, but credit had to be given to Cersei. She certainly knew how to do things, _If Barristan knew about this, he would be filled with wroth._ The thought amused him.

It was no great secret that Ser Barristan held much love for him. In fact, Jaime was of the mind that the bloody, old knight was always contemptuous with each and every single thought of his that included him one way or another.

He looked around the white room of the White Sword Tower, the home of the Kingsguard and took in the five faces that were standing around the table. He was well knowledgeable of one, Ser Arys Oakheart but the rest were a mystery to him on a personal level but he was more than well aware enough of their renown and exploits as knights to know that this Kingsguard that his nephew was building was arms and heads better than the one that had protected Robert and Joffrey.

He immediately didn't like them.

Ser Guyard, Ser Robar, Ser Balon and Ser Dantis were not Cersei's men. They were the king's men and would follow his orders above those of his, _If I give a questionable order, it's more than likely they would go to the king. _Why did Cersei do this to him? He cared not for leading or ruling as much as Cersei did. He was a warrior, he was born to be found on the battlefield, or when he was not doing that, making sweet love to his darling sister.

One thing Jaime noticed about his new sworn brothers was that they were young. The oldest among them could not have been more than twenty. Ser Dantis Jast was the youngest among them, a youth of eight-and-ten years of age but yet he knew enough from tourneys that he was skilled with sword and shield and morningstar. He excelled when it came to tournament melees but he was not that notable when its came to the tilts.

Jaime was aware enough to know that the Jasts were bannermen to House Lannister. Jaime was want to think that this would mean that Ser Dantis would be more loyal to himself and House Lannister, but Caspian was of House Lannister as well and thanks to his vows, his loyalty was expected of him to his king and he was young enough to be willing to follow such vows.

Ser Guyard Morrigen was next. The young knight was the second youngest at twenty years of age. Jaime already had discounted him as someone he could sway the loyalty of. He had fought alongside his nephew in the Dornish Marches against the Dornishmen and to put the icing on the cake, he was the second son of a storm lord. Jaime had seen him in the training yard and he could tell that he was already better than Ser Boros and Ser Meryn combined, _Then again, that isn't much praise. _Anyone could have been better than those two, even if one lacked no talent with the sword and merely had practiced hard since they were young.

Ser Robar Royce hailed from the Vale of Arryn. A comely young man if not in a rough-hewn way. Out of the new recruits to wear the white cloak, he was rather renowned to a more realm-wide degree. He had tilted against him several times in the past in tourneys and he had been impressed. Ser Robar was a good tourney knight and an even better swordsman, _And most of all loyal. _

Ser Balon Swann was the last. Once more, another scion of a stormland House, _The most famous of the lot. _Ser Balon was wide across the chest with arms thick as muscle. He was young, brave, courteous and a valiant fighter, someone well suited for the white cloak once more. He was skilled with a mace, better with a morningstar and exceptional with a bow, a weapon Jaime was surprised a knight actually bothered using.

Knights in general had always had a disdain for the use of long-range weaponry, _There's no honour in the weapon. _They said, _Well, fools to them._ Jaime said in return to them. Did it matter in the end of how someone was killed? Jaime didn't like to think there was.

He gave one final sweep of the faces and wondered, if it ever came down to it, will he be able to defeat them? _If they all came at once, it would be a bloody fight._ A bloody fight that would most likely end up in his death or being wounded grievously. He liked his chances better if they came at him one at a time, but he was of the mind that although the knights may have been young, they were smart enough to know that they had to come at him together in hopes of defeating him in battle.

Jaime thought that it was about time that he got down to business. He smiled easily at his new brothers, "It seems greetings are in order." He had been in the capital for a couple of moon's yet he had not had the pleasure of seeing his newer brothers in an official manner, "Myself and Ser Arys already know of each other, why not introduce yourselves?"

Jaime started it all of by nodding in the direction of Ser Dantis who stood at the left closest to him. Ser Dantis nodded and cleared his throat, "Ser Dantis Jast, Lord Commander. It's my greatest honour to serve for the king and work alongside a renowned knight such as you Ser Jaime." He finished with a small bow of the head.

Jaime kept the smile on his face, _Honour?_ Well that was new. The Kingslayer was of the mind that no-one of the mind thought it would be an honour to serve with him. Barristan was of the same mind. Why did the old codger keep coming to his mind whenever he thought of the Kingsguard? It was starting to become annoying.

The Lion of Lannister decided to be courteous and humble with his reply, "No, the honour is mine to be serving alongside such a talented young knight. Tell me if you don't mind, but how did the king come to hear of you?"

"I squired for Ser Daven at Casterly Rock, Lord Commander." Ser Dantis replied, his voice cool and calm and professional. Jaime was of the mind that he was one who seemed to like to keep a collected façade no matter the situation, "I met the king when he was fostered there underneath the care of Lord Tywin. We occasionally sparred whenever it came to his training of the swords. I must have impressed him." He finished with something of a smile. Jaime noted that his smile was more reflected in the pools of amber that he called eyes, than his lips.

"Huh, so you know the king well then?"

Ser Dantis' cloak fluttered slightly as he shrugged his soldiers, "I suppose better than most."

The Kingslayer gave a nod of acceptance before nodding onto the next person. Ser Guyard who stood all immaculate in his white armour. Ser Guyard took the hint and spoke up, "Ser Guyard of House Morrigen of Crow's Nest in the Stormlands, Lord Commander. I served with the king against the dornish and was given the honour of being in his personal guard."

Jaime allowed himself to laugh easily, "Well, you are already qualified then if you were able to protect him from rabid, angry dornishmen."

"Thank you for the praise, Lord Commander." Ser Guyard said.

_A little stiff isn't he? _Ser Balon came next, "Ser Balon Swann, Lord Commander. Of House Swann of Stonehelm." His cloak was fastened to his armour by two brooches in the shape of two cranes. One was onyx in colour and the other white and difficult to see on his white cloak and white scaled armour. Jaime wondered if those were the colours of his House.

The Kingslayer gave a nod of the head before turning back to the others and addressing the table, "Well brothers, I would like to say let's all have a day off and get to know each other, but I can't." He started of with what he thought was a pleasant and light-hearted joke. The others didn't think it was. None laughed or even smiled, _Difficult crowd. _He thought, "The king's sixteenth name-day is soon going to be upon us. As usual, a tourney shall be held, now that itself would be a problem, but the king also plans to hold a festival afterwards as another added celebratory gesture to his name-day. We're going to be co-ordinating with the City Watch in keeping the peace and most importantly, the security of the king. Caspian might be well liked more than his late brother, but one could never be too careful."

The rest of the meeting was Jaime giving the basic information about security preparations for the upcoming festivities. The positioning of the Kingsguard knights when it came to guarding the king and his family. Who was going to stand where and who was going to shadow who. And who was going to have to miss out on taking part in the tourney to guard the royal family once more whilst the others rode in the tilts.

The sun had fallen far too the east and the moon was rising in the west when Jaime was done with the meeting. Some of the knights went to carry out their duty of standing vigil outside the door of a royal family member whilst others went to sleep for their own shifts.

Jaime had made it so that he would not have his shift until tomorrow. He had a visit to make. It had been far too long since he had last seen Cersei.

_She worries too much._ Jaime thought as he began to make his way towards his destination. There were still people around awake in the Red Keep despite the lateness of the night. Servants, ladies and lords and guards patrolling the Red Keep. Men sworn to House Baratheon and House Lannister as well as gold cloaks.

If Caspian was indeed to find the truth of the nature of his siblings birth and the nature of the relationship between his mother and his uncle, Jaime would kill the boy. He had already killed one king, why not another? Although this time, he would have to make sure that he wasn't caught doing so like he had done with Aerys. It galled him to think that he would have to skulk around like a catspaws, but if he wanted to continue to have his head and keeping making sweet love with the woman of his dreams, then he would do so willingly.

_Cersei would probably be angry with me, but in the end, she will thank me. _He thought. She would hit him, probably or even ignore him for a time, before she would come to him and seek the comforts of his embraces and his cock. It always confused him as to why Cersei never smothered the boy when he was nothing more than a babe. His entire existence had always been a threat to them, considering his looks, but she had refused to even think about such a thing, _A mother and her whelps._

Jaime supposed that he should have felt something for the loss of Joffrey, his firstborn. It was said that a man was supposed to feel fury and anger and grief and despair but honestly? He felt nothing. Nothing at all. The day him and his damned brother had come out of Cersei's cunt, the little pink thing and his brother had taken too much of Cersei's time and teats. Time and teats that would have better served him.

The boy might have come from his seed, but that meant nothing to him. Cersei had begged him to give her Robert's children and he had simply accepted. He had never been a father to the little shit and he had gone to the grave thinking that sot of a king, Robert was his torrid father, _Good, _Jaime thought, _I don't think I would have been able to deal with the little shit._

Joffrey had been a horrible bastard. If he could honestly say it, he would have thought that Joffrey actually deserved to die. Sometimes, very rarely, he had woken up on cold nights with cold sweats running down his body at the thought of him seating on Robert's throne and his face would always turn into that of Aerys burning people in his throne room.

_What have you done? _And that thought would always be soon to follow those dreams. He occasionally thought of killing the boy, but had thought better of it. He might not have known it, but Joffrey was of his own blood. Whether he liked him or not, he couldn't kill the fruit of his own seed.

He nearly staggered in his footsteps as he walked when a name came to mind, _Tyrion... _His dwarf brother had a queer affection for Caspian. And considering his cunning, Jaime no doubt knew that Tyrion would know immediately or guess that it had been him who had killed Caspian if he ever did such a thing. He was of the mind that killing Caspian would cost him the love of his dwarf brother, a love that he didn't deserve at the end of the day, so what did it matter? He only cared about the love of one person.

The chirrups in the gardens and bushes were making a sweet sound to the ears. It was a full moon and the light of the moon basked the darkened ground with a beautiful glow of silver that made it easy to make his way to his destination.

Contrary to what others thought of him, Jaime had a thinking mind. He was not stupid enough to go directly to Cersei's chambers. Instead, he walked all around the Red Keep, taking sudden turns, double-backing in one direction and mazing about the castle in the case that he was followed before coming to his destination.

He stood in front of a door and knocked at it. He could see from the faint light from underneath the door that the occupant was still very awake. The door creaked open and that was all he needed before pushing it open and stepping into the room. He closed it shut behind him, "My Lord Jaime!" Varys squawked in that soft voice of his.

Jaime smiled at him, "Varys." He greeted pleasantly, "A beautiful night isn't It?" He asked the eunuch, dressed in a soft bed robe. He found it strange that the eunuch dressed so richly yet lived in a room that was all but bare of materialistic things. There was a bed, some furniture but there was all to it. The bed itself looked as if it wouldn't be comfortable to sleep on.

The eunuch chuckled nervously, "Really? I wouldn't know, my lord. I was just about to turn in for the night."

"Well then, I'm sorry for ruining your beauty sleep." He wasn't sorry at all. He couldn't a piss about what the eunuch was about to be doing.

The master of whisperers was nervously wringing his hands together constantly, "So what do I owe the pleasure for the visit, my lord?"

Jaime gave him a disarming smile. It seemed to not work as the eunuch tittered nervously some more. It seemed as if he was going to have to work on his smiling, "Maegor the Cruel once built secret tunnels throughout the Red Keep."

The eunuch gave an anxious shake of the head, "That he did."

"And you know of them."

"Some people might say that."

That wasn't the answer Jaime was looking for. He casually placed a hand to the handle of his sword, "And you know of them." The Kingslayer repeated, his voice pleasant.

Varys' eyes trailed down to the sword and was quick to sing another little song for him, "Those same people speak true." He squaeked.

Jaime kept his hand on the handle of his longsword. But he did smile at Varys, "Then you shall take me to my sister's chambers through these tunnels."

The eunuch's eyes widened, "My lord?"

The Lion of Lannister had the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he kept his eyes squarely of the plump man and sighed, "Don't be coy with me Varys. You know everything that happens in this blasted city and beyond."

Varys gave a slight, nervous chuckle, "No man can know everything, my lord. I'm no god."

_I'm not saying you are._ His patience was starting to run out with the eunuch and Jaime found himself one step closer to removing his head. But he thought better of it, _A finger maybe?_ Just to show that he was serious, _Maybe a hand or the arm. _He decided, he will give the eunuch the choice in the end, when he was done with him, "For a man who's job is to know things, I'm sure you know of how much I love my sister, no?"

The eunuch tittered, "I have been aware of the level of...affection for your sister for a while now, my lord."

"Now we're making progress." Jaime said with a smile, "So you have no problems with me asking you to take me to my sister now do you through these tunnels? And I should warn you, try anything, and I won't be held accountable for any missing limbs or loss of life."

The eunuch paled in the face of the threat, "I understand Ser Jaime. But it is a risky ploy you play. The king is watching you."

Jaime's reply was more belligerent than he thought, "The Others can take the king." He said heatedly, "Whatever eyes he has watching me, I'm sure to have lost them." He had wondered around the Red Keep for close to an hour, maybe even more. He had started running into more and more guards rather than servants as time passed by as he made his way through the castle grounds and the Red Keeps many passages and hallways, "Now take me to my sister, damn you!"

The eunuch was quick to comply. He scurried towards his bed and pulled some lever that resulted in his bed suddenly floating off the ground to reveal a staircase underneath. Jaime stared for a moment at the floating bed, "Well..." He began, looking up at the bed, "That's impressive. Truly, I'm impressed."

He could feel the eunuch giving him one of those slimy smiles of his, "A counter float spell, my lord. Or so I'm told. I have yet to learn the truth behind it as well." He held a torch in his hand, "This way if you please." He said as he began to make the descend down the stair case.

Jaime was quick to follow behind, lest he find himself walking in the dark without Varys' torch and light. He could hear the bed make a sound as it hid the stair case from the rest of the world once more.

They didn't make much conversation as they travelled amongst the secret passageways of the Red Keep. Whatever had to be said, had already been said. Instead, Jaime tried to make note of the passage to his sister's chambers left he needed to go through them again.

He gave up within the first few minutes. The passages seemed to twist and turn and nearly all of them looked the same. When they weren't made of stone, they were made of the very earth itself, with frames of timber supporting the ground. He thought it would not be his day if the frames were suddenly to suddenly fail and result in him crushed underneath the earth, _Horrible way to die. _He wondered if it would be quick, or would he be left suffering in pain before he was finally allowed the sweet relief of death? _I wonder if my body would ever be found?_ Unlikely. His tomb would be interred in Casterly Rock empty.

Lord Tywin would grieve in silence at his death, Tyrion would cry in silence and Cersei would cry loudly, _Would she follow me in death? _They were twins that had a very, _very _close connection after all.

Jaime found himself mildly surprised when they passed through the underground chamber were the skulls of the Targaryen dragons were laid. He would not have noticed them in the dark, their skulls were pitch black and when the light of the torch touched them, that was only when he saw them.

The flickering flames seemed to make the shadows dance and the dragons come alive. This place began to unease him. The eyes of the dragons seemed to be following him as he followed Varys into another passage.

They eventually reached their destination, "Here we are." He said, standing aside of the entrance to the queen's apartments.

Jaime gave a nod as he walked past. He then stopped for a moment, "Tell anyone of this..."

"I wouldn't even dare, Ser Jaime."

He nodded. Jaime pushed what seemed to be an odd stone and the wall slid open. He stepped into the room and noted that he was above one of the hearths in the queens apartments. He jumped down and head the sound of the wall behind him close.

"Who's there?" He had his sister's voice call out. It was startled and surprised, yet he sensed no fear in her voice. She was truly a lioness. Fearless.

"It's me Cersei." He called back, softly. They were guards guarding the queen's apartments. Lannister guards, true, but he would not risk it. It was then he realised he did not know of how to open the secret passage open when he intended to leave. It seemed he would have to sneak out.

"_Jaime!?" _The queen hissed quietly. He heard fumbling before a small light was in the room. Cersei had lit one of her bedside candles and the flames from the twin hearths gave the room some more light.

Jaime made his way towards her curtains. The moonlight would make it easier, "The very same."

"What are you doing here?" His sister asked as she followed him with those emerald eyes of his, much like his own. He didn't need to see them to know they were following him, "How did you even come here? This was folly!"

Jaime threw open the curtains and allowed the room to be baked in silver light, "It's nothing to worry about sister." He said easily as he turned to face her. With the light, he was able to see that his sister was naked in her bed. He felt his blood and member stir within him, "You look as lovely as ever." It had been a while since he had last seen such a beautiful sight as the one that he saw in front of him. His eyes came to a stop at her breasts.

Cersei covered herself with her blankets as she blew out the candle, "How. Did. You. Get. Here?" She asked once more, "I didn't hear the door open."

Jaime made his way towards her, "You can thank Maegor the Cruel." He said as he unlaced his breeches, "He has tunnels everywhere. I suppose you can thank Varys too." He finished as he removed his breeches and boots, letting them fall to the floor with a quiet clutter before leaning in to kiss his sister.

Cersei took in a sharp breath of air, "_Varys!?"_ Jaime didn't say anything to her, instead, he pressed his lips upon hers. She tried to push him away but she continued to kiss him before her mouth opened to allow their tongues to dance. He threw the bedsheet to the side with one flourish and cupped one breast with the very same hand. He then began to kiss his sister's collar and neck, "Jaime," She moaned quietly, "We can't."

He spread apart her legs, feeling the smoothness of her milk white thighs on his hands, "Yes, we can." He then entered her, bringing a gasp from Cersei. Jaime allowed himself a moment to feel the folds, warmness and wetness of Cersei's cunt after so long. Her cunt might have been the only one he had ever come to know, never having laid with another woman in his life, but he could definitely say that it was the sweetest and tightest cunt, even after having birthed four children. It still wrapped tightly around his cock.

Her cunt was made for his cock, and no-one else's.

He began to thrust into her. Cersei wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his back. Her nails were digging into him, but he liked the pain. He pounded even harder into her. She bit into his collar to stop herself from gasping loudly and her nails dug deeper.

His back was going to be bloody by the morn.

"Yes Jaime," She whispered, "Yes, yes, yes, yes. There, there, there. How I've missed you. We are one. One. _One." _She continued to whisper sweet nothings into his ear and he continued to bury himself even deeper into her cunt. He would sometimes swear that he was hitting her womb.

With one large, final thrust, he spent his seed inside her cunt and he fell atop her, panting, "I missed you. I missed this." He said softly.

Cersei was softly rubbing his back with one of her hands, "I missed you too." Now if only he could take her for his wife publicly, then everything would be perfect, but he dare not do that. He would risk all. Not just his life, but Cersei's and those bastard children of his, _The remaining ones. _He didn't care much about them, but Cersei did, _And father..._ Jaime thought his love for his sister was pure. Lord Tywin would have found it shameful and disgusting.

If only they had been Targaryens...

He removed himself from inside her and rolled to the side. He could feel the warmness of Cersei's juices on his cock and the slickness of his own seed.

"This was folly." Cersei suddenly said.

It brought a frown to his face, "No-one saw me come."

"You could have been followed!" She hissed, taking a mind to keep her voice quiet, before someone heard her speak.

"I made sure I wasn't."

Cersei rose and studied his face for a moment before sighing, "If you say." She stayed quiet for a moment, "Do you know of Ser Osmund?"

"Aye, Caspian had him removed from the Kingsguard." He said, "What about him?"

"He did not take his dismissal kindly. Him and his brothers." She gazed at him with those eyes of hers, "I want them dead."

Jaime didn't even think about it, "I shall track them on the morrow."

She leaned down and gave him long kiss on the lips. One hand had drifted down to his cock and had begun to pump it, "Good. Now then, you have fucked my cunt, why not my mouth and then my arse? It's been so long." She said, removing her lips from his and gliding her head towards his cock, all the while giving small kisses down his body.

Jaime could only grin as the moonlight peered through the window and into the room. If this was his reward for having to kill three men, his sweet sister needed only ask for who she wanted dead.


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/GOT_

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Tyrion

Tyrion found the king in his royal offices. And he wasn't alone. When he had entered the large chamber, he had found the king to be in deep conversation with the master of coin. The two had stopped their conversation to look at his entrance before the king had signaled Littlefinger to continue speaking.

From what he had picked up, it seemed as if he had arrived at the tail-end of their meeting as they were summarizing the last of the royal accounts. Being acting Hand of the King, the Imp also had seen the accounts of the crown and he had to admit, the future looked bright.

Caspian had removed the crown's debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos by sharing it out to their defeated foes. The Tyrells took the largest share of the crown's debt whilst Dorne took the second largest. The North, never having been one of the richest kingdoms of the realm had seen no such thing as having to adopt the crown's debt, but they had seen a tax increase, the same for the Reach and Dorne.

Sure enough, Tyrion was of a mind that the remaining debt that the crown owed to the Iron Bank would soon disappear in the next couple of years. If not, soon. Caspian had been quick to remove any and all costs to the crown that served no great purpose, such as a personal, private manse in King's Landing where his father had hosted orgies in his time.

Caspian had been confused as to why he didn't hold such orgies in Maegor's Holdfast, "There was plenty enough room." The young king had said. His father's blatant adultery and disrespect the king showed his queen didn't seem to be much of an issue with the new king.

Tyrion knew well enough that was simply because he knew his parent's marriage was merely political in nature. So he wasn't at all that bothered if either of his parents had been faithful to the other.

_He would have been fine with Cersei taking a lover. _Tyrion realized as he waddled towards the sideboard. He had to go on his pinky toes to reach up to the flagon of wine and glass goblet available, _But would he be fine with the knowledge that his mother birthed bastards as passed them of as trueborn? _The Imp knew that his favourite nephew was one of the most open minded people in the realm. He could live with his mother having a lover, but he doubted he would have been able to live with the knowledge that he had no trueborn siblings.

"With all the cuts you have made Your Grace, I'm sure in the next quarter, we will see a large increase in the revenue gained from taxes and duties." He heard Littlefinger say. The large book of account in front of him snapped shut with a dull bang.

The king relaxed in his chair, "My father liked spending money. I like doing the opposite."

Mirth danced in the master of coins eyes, "Yet your sixteenth birthday festivities will prove to be rather costly."

"The costs for that are coming out of my own coin." It seemed the entire subject of how costly the said festivities are going to be was a subject that his favourite nephew wasn't willing to talk about. Less alone enjoy it.

"I must admit, I am rather curious as to how you are able to fund all this." Tyrion said, speaking up for the first time, "Just where are you finding the coin for this?"

His nephew could only smile knowingly at him, "Lord Baelish isn't the only person who can conjure up dragons from nought by rubbing two fingers together."

Littlefinger laughed, "I don't understand why everybody says that. I have tried that and it hasn't exactly worked." He gave them a demonstration and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, "See? No gold dragon has suddenly appeared in my hands. Nothing at all."

"Well, it is said magic works in many different ways." He dismissed Littlefinger with a wave of the hand, "Please leave us, Lord Baelish."

Littlefinger gave a deep bow, "As you will, Your Grace." He said before turning splendidly, the heels of his boots snapping together. He cast a quick wink in Tyrion's direction before making for the exit.

The door shut softly behind him. Tyrion looked back to the king, "I hope you don't trust that man." He said as he took a sip from his goblet.

The king quirked an eyebrow, "Do I look that naïve to you uncle?" He yawned as he stretched out his arms and back. Tyrion thought he had a pop of some kind coming from the king, "We'll be rid of him soon enough. I just need his prowess at finding gold for the nonce. When I'm done with him, well..." He trailed off rather darkly as he rolled the sockets of his shoulders. Despite the subject he was talking about, he was rather casual about the whole thing.

Now that caught Tyrion's attention. He leaned forward in his seat, "Mind if I ask why?" Littlefinger had nearly gotten him killed with that dagger ploy of his. The why was still eluding him, but he was going to have his vengeance one way or another.

"Some other time uncle."

Tyrion didn't really like the answer but he gave a nod of his head either way. He leaned back into his chair and relaxed, taking another drink from his goblet and letting his taste buds take in the wine. It was sweet Arbor gold. Despite his young age, his nephew had an eye for taste, _Or tongue would be the more correct term._

And speaking of the king himself, he looked very regal in his attire. He was dressed in the colours of both House Baratheon and House Lannister. He wore a black doublet with gold accents and underneath the doublet was a shirt of Lannister crimson in colour. He didn't need to see that his breeches would be black.

Caspian always wore black breeches, _And boots. Shouldn't forget the boots. _

His crown was a fairly simple thing and the king had foresworn on wearing it for the moment, but it wasn't far from his persons. The gold piece of ornamental jewellery sat on his desk, its gold glinting in the sunlight. The red rubies themselves in the crown glowed seemed to glow a deep red and the black opal seemed to suck in all light to leave nothing more than empty black spots.

Tyrion absently remembered that Cersei had wanted her son to have a much grander crown than the one he wore. She had wanted him to wear her brother's crown, but Caspian had complained that it would give him neck problems. His argument was weak and feeble but Tyrion had enjoyed it.

"Grandfather will be in the capital soon." The king suddenly said.

Tyrion had been in the midst of bringing his goblet to his lips. He had froze when he heard his nephew speak, "How soon?" He asked as he finally brought the goblet to his lips and drank from it.

His nephews mismatched eyes drifted over to his own. They seemed to bore into him, searching for something. Tyrion wondered what, "Soon as he'll most likely be here before my name-day tourney." The king said.

Tyrion found himself smiling somewhat bitterly, "Seems like my time as your Hand will soon be coming to an end." He had known that this day would soon come, and he had prepared himself for it. But he still found himself feeling far bitter than he thought he should.

He had _enjoyed_ being the Hand of the King. The power that came with it. The knowledge that his decisions and actions would be put into the histories, instead of him being the dwarf son of Lord Tywin Lannister.

Caspian gave him a solemn nod, "Aye, you'll also have to do something about that bedwarmer of yours." Tyrion nearly spit out his wine in surprise, until he realised he didn't have any wine in his mouth. The king stopped for a moment, "What was her name? Shaera? Shia? Shae?"

"Shae..." Tyrion said slowly. His mind was a whirlwind of activity, _How does he know? _Tyrion had been careful to hide Shae. Only Varys knew about Shae. Did the eunuch sell him out? No, that couldn't have been it. Why would he sell him out to Caspian? The king would gain nothing from the knowledge about Shae.

"So that's her name. Couldn't quite recall it. Grandfather won't be pleased to know about her existence." The king had no idea how true that was. Lord Tywin had expressly told him that he was not to bring the young whore to the capital when he had sent him on his way, _And I had defied him. _"You do remember Tysha don't you?"

Tyrion didn't want to have that thrown in his face. Of course he remembered Tysha. How could he not? She was the first woman that he had bedded and the first woman he had taken to wife, _And the woman who had broken my heart._ She had been after his gold. The gold of Casterly Rock.

The Imp looked at his nephew. His eyes even, "Are you going to tell Lord Tywin?"

The king shook his head, "No. What do I gain from telling grandfather about her? I'm just telling you that if I know about her, someone else other than Varys will know about her," _Like my mother. _Tyrion heard him say the words he did not speak. He knew the boy was speaking truth, "You should let her go uncle. Give her some gold or set her up in Oldtown. Anywhere that's not here. She's safer that way."

At that, Tyrion knew that the king knew that Shae wasn't just an whore. Caspian could tell that the young girl had a far larger place in his heart and he didn't want him to be hurt by seeing her lifeless body swaying from the gallows.

He gave him a stiff nod, "I'll think of something."

"Good." Said the king with a curt nod of the head.

"How did you know?" The Imp eventually asked. He looked at his nephew seriously, "It wasn't Varys was it?" If it was, Varys was going to find himself being visited in the night by some of his mountain men. It was a pity Varys didn't have a beard like the Grand Maester did.

"Varys?" The king repeated, "He knew? Well, I can't be really surprised about that. But no, I didn't learn it from Varys. I have my own informers and spies. It's always best to have your own such of things." He stopped for a moment, his eyes distant in thought, "Although I take every single thing they tell me with a pinch of salt." The king allowed himself to release a laugh of amusement, "I find it droll that I don't even find it odd to be untrusting of my own spies."

Tyrion on the other hand, found it a smart policy. You never knew what was true and what was false, _He's always been smart._ The Imp thought as he looked at his nephew, _He learned his letters and his writing faster than me. _And he always found that bit of news somewhat irksome. It seemed as if the gods had taken a liking to Caspian. He had the martial skills of his uncle that would only get better with time if he was diligent enough to train them and the brains of his uncle which he always honed with his constant reading, _He's going to be a better king than his father. _The uncle realised, _And the first king to be worthy of the throne in over fifty years. _

The Imp wondered if he would be beside his nephew as he carved out a large stake of history for his own, "I think that's a wise policy." Tyrion finally said.

"Thanks." The king replied with a genuine smile that reached his eyes.

The smile brought a pang of hurt to the Imp. He didn't know why, _Don't lie to yourself. You know why. _Caspian genuinely adored him. Loved him despite his crooked nature. The boy had celebrated his uncle's name-day by taking him to a whorehouse when he was still at Casterly Rock, with the threat of drawing his grandfather's wroth on him, but he had done so nonetheless, _You've been more of a father to him than his own father. _Robert and Caspian had been close to a degree, but not as close as the two were, _Would he still love me if he knew I was lying to him? _He hoped he would never find out.

Tyrion could count only three people in the world who had a genuine affection for him as he was.

"I suppose I should find myself another apartment to stay in." He said, speaking up, "I can't stay in the Tower of the Hand anymore by the looks of it. I'm going to miss that tower. I had made it to feel like home." And most of all, he was going to miss his chain of office.

"I'll find something for you to do uncle." Caspian eventually said, "Some post on the council or in my inner circle."

Tyrion grinned, "Whether I'm in the small council or not, I'll always be in your inner circle."

The king barked out a laugh, "I suppose that's true." The king wiped away a stray tear. Bright light came in from the large window that he was sat in front of. Tyrion was thankful that the king's shadow loomed over him, protecting him from the worst of it lest he go blind, "Grandfather will probably see to it that he has some Lannister men in positions of influence."

"I could have told you that."

The king didn't react to the witticism, "He's going to replace Ser Jacelyn as Commander of the City Watch, but he's going to keep him as a high-ranking officer." Ser Jacelyn was a loyal and able man, that was true, far better than his predecessor Janos Slynt, but he wasn't someone that Lord Tywin would want in such an influential position. So Tyrion couldn't help but agree with his nephew's assessment.

"Who do you think he's going to replace him with?"

"Ser Addam probably." The king replied with a shrug, "Maybe a change in commander's would bring a new perspective. They still haven't found Tyrek."

Tyrion frowned. Tyrek Lannister was the only son of Tygett Lannister. The youngest of Lord Tywin's brothers. He had been a squire to King Robert along with their other cousin Lancel the Sop, but he had disappeared during the Battle of King's Landing.

It was odd since Caspian had mainly kept squires under the age of fourteen in the back lines acting as reservists. Some people were of the mind, that the young boy had been some of the other braver squires that had snuck into sortie companies in search of glory and had found himself killed. But they did not find his body, so the entire thing was odd.

"He'll turn up sooner or later." Alive or dead was the question. He decided to change the subject back to the original one of positions of power, "So who else might Lord Tywin mean to change?"

"Uncle Stannis."

Tyrion found himself smiling crookedly, "I think my lord father would want to do more than remove my good-brother from the council." If their lord father had read the letter Stannis had sent out, which he was sure he had done, then he would have taken the accusations against his children as a personal assault on House Lannister.

And Tywin Lannister did not sit and do nothing when an attack on House Lannister was made.

The king squirmed in his seat with an irritated look, "I figured as much."

Tyrion found himself chuckling a little, "Paxter Redwyne would be someone capable of replacing him." The bannerman to the Tyrells controlled a large fleet of war ships and merchant ships. So if someone was to be master of ships, the Imp thought Paxter was as good as any other person, _That if he's still alive. _Word was that the ironborn had assaulted the Arbor in strength, most likely recognising the Redwyne Fleet as a threat to whatever ambitions they had.

But that news was now several moons old. The far more recent news told of how the Royal Fleet had finally arrived in the Redwyne Straits and the Arbor to do battle with the ironborn. Without them meeting in battle, Stannis already knew that Stannis would have a hard time combating the ironborn. He would be outnumbered and the ironborn themselves would most likely have better sailors.

Tyrion found himself torn between rooting for Stannis to win victory and finally put an end to the ironborn incursion. Say what you will about the man, but he was one of the realms finest commanders and soldiers, _But then again, death would be a far sweeter experience than whatever my father would do to him for spreading the truth. _A truth Tywin Lannister did not believe in. And Tyrion was going to keep it that way for as long as possible.

"True enough." The king agreed.

"And for a new master of coin since you are clearly intent on removing our friend Littlefinger, why not Willas Tyrell?"

The king raised his eyebrow, "The heir to Highgarden?"

"We might hold Mace Tyrell's only daughter, but having another Tyrell around, someone from the main family would make it easier to keep him in line."

The king gave a nod of his head. He was thinking over what his uncle had just told him, "Why Willas?"

"Because I doubt the Tyrells are the second richest House in all of Westeros because of Mace Tyrell." Willas Tyrell was crippled, yes, but Tyrion still found himself jealous of the man. He was tall and fair enough to look upon. How he wouldn't mind being someone like Willas Tyrell, _Being a dwarf or have a bad leg? _The choice was obvious.

Taking his own thoughts out of the way, Tyrion thought that the heir to Highgarden would make a good choice for master of coin. He was of the mind that the Tyrell boy clearly had been doing other things to do other than breed horses, hawks and dogs. From what he had learned, he was a capable lad, far more than his father, Mace Tyrell.

If Willas Tyrell had been the Lord of Highgarden, Tyrion was of the mind that he wouldn't have involved himself in the war that had occurred. No matter how much Loras had begged for him to support Renly as king.

The king laughed, "I suppose that's true."

And speaking of the Tyrells...Tyrion leaned forward in his seat, "Have you chosen which girl you are going to take to wife?"

The king sighed as he slumped into his seat, "No, I haven't."

"But you have thought about it and are close to a decision, no?"

Caspian gave a tired nod of the head, "I'll probably have an answer by the time of my name-day celebrations."

Tyrion gave a nod of the head. He didn't try to counsel his nephew on which woman he should choose to wed. Margaery Tyrell or Arianne Martell. Caspian was a big boy, he was sure he would make the right choise. The Imp didn't even bother the thought of considering the two Lannister cousins that Cersei had called over from the Rock.

Sometimes. Tyrion felt like slapping the stupidity out of his sister. Maybe if he slapped her hard enough, whatever sense she had would come rushing to the surface, _If only. _He was starting to think that Cersei had no sense in that head of hers.

And thinking of Cersei, his mind somehow ended up drifting to Osmund Kettleblack. The Kettleblack brothers had been found dead some days ago in an alley. Cersei's work no doubt and he had idea of who her catspaw had been, her darling brother and lover, Jaime.

Tyrion knew that Cersei had bedded all three brothers by the time Jaime had come back to the capital. One at a time or all at once, he cared not to know. And knowing Cersei, she would have wanted to keep them quiet about her infidelity to her brother.

Although his sister had played a risky game in sending Jaime after them. The brothers could have revealed all during the midst of battle to save their own pathetic lives, _Lancel..._ He suddenly thought. Their cousin was also another person Cersei took into her bed. But Tyrion didn't know whether Cersei would be willing to kill someone of their own blood, could Jaime? _In a fit of jealous rage maybe. _

Tyrion decided to find the boy and give him some counsel to leave King's Landing as soon as he was able. For his own sake, _It's a good thing he's afraid of me._

* * *

Caspian

His name-day and coming of age was soon to be upon him. And guests from far and wide across the Seven Kingdoms were coming in celebration. Caspian knew that he would have more guests staying in the Red Keep during this time than he had previously during his coronation.

Unlike during the time of his coronation, the realm wasn't shattered and split between several warring factions. It was now at peace...if it wasn't for the ironborn of course. The king was starting to think that the ironborn of the same kind of ilk that had plagued Maegor the Cruel's rein, his very own Faith Militant, but instead of warring against pious fools and zealots that would disappear into the country side, he was battling against raiders and reavers.

Nonetheless, it seemed as if that conflict was soon going to be of an end, and the king planned to make sure that the ironborn were never going to pose no other threat in the future ever again.

After breaking his supper with bread, boiled eggs, black bacon and some wine. The king had gone to attend some of his duties, reading some papers and hearing the reports from Ser Jacelyn about the state of the gold cloaks and whether or not they needed more men to keep the peace within the city.

Thankfully, the commander reported no problems that would trouble the upcoming festivities. Thinking of the festivities made the king wince in pain whenever he thought about it. The wince of pain coming from how much gold he had spent on it. He kept telling himself that it was all for a good cause and that the crown will recoup its losses and many more from all the gold the lords, ladies and commons were going to spent during their time in the capital.

Nonetheless, the copper-counting, cheapskate within him always despaired whenever the numbers popped up within his mind. He sometimes thought by the end of it all, if the crown had made losses, he would break down in tears.

Lord Tywin would soon be back in the city, having sent a raven ahead of him that he would be coming to King's Landing in time for the celebrations and then afterwards to take up his office. When he had read the letter, Caspian was able to note that he had plainly as possible had instructed Tywin to have vacated his chambers by the time he had arrived.

Robb was also due to arrive soon in the capital. Him and his lady wife, along with a host of northern lords most likely. The lords themselves didn't interest him. He was more interested in seeing Jeyne Westerling, _Jeyne _Stark_ now_. The king corrected himself. The king was sure he had once met Jeyne but he couldn't quite picture her face, _Or was that another Jeyne? _He would have to ask and find out.

Whoever Robb's lady wife was, Caspian wondered if she was worth nearly losing a kingdom over.

Sooner than he had realised, he had finished his kingly duties by the time it was midday and he found himself with nothing to do. Feeling a need to train himself and not let his martial skills go to waste like that of his father, he took to the training yard and sparred with knights and squires alike for some few hours before deciding to retreat back to his own chambers to clean himself up from the sweat he had worked up.

He had taken several steps into his room before he noticed something was amiss. The king was rather niggardly as a person. He kept things in order and when something was moved or touched, he was more than able enough to spot it.

And he had spotted several things were amiss in his chambers, although he wouldn't have to look hard to see things were amiss. The curtains made of colourful silk were pushed open to allow a sea breeze to enter his room, candles were lit when they shouldn't have been.

All these signs would have been a cause for alarm, but the king wasn't alarmed in the slightest. The candles were scented and the flowers that decorated his balcony and the ones in his chambers were in full bloom but there was one particular scent his nose was able to pick up.

All of a sudden, his world darkened, "Guess who?" A soft female voice asked. The tone was playful. Playful and sultry.

It was easy removing the small hands that covered his vision. The hands were soft to the touch, "Do I really need to play such a childish game Arianne?" The voice had been enough for him to know who had snuck into his room...that, and the scent of the desert. He used one of her hands to pull her into his front field of vision.

"Rough." She said when she came to a stop in front of him with a twirl. She cast him a smile, her white teeth glistening, "I've always liked it when you play rough, Your Grace." She said as she executed a perfect curtsey.

The ornate snake that she always wore on her right forearm glistened when the light of the lit candles hit it. It's copper and gold scales glimmering with each movement she made. It was all she wore.

Somehow, the king wasn't even surprised, "How did you even get in here?"

She cast him a smile that would have made the Red Viper proud, "I charmed one of your attendants."

A smile of amusement formed on the king's lips, "I suppose you made his day. By now, I'm sure he's telling his fellow attendants of how vigorously he fucked the Princess of Dorne." He had seen Arianne in all of her nakedness too many times to count now, yet he found himself taking it all in once more. The hollow of her throat, the round ripe breasts with their huge dark nipples, the lush curves at waist and hip.

She playfully smacked him on the arm. Her ornate snake seemed to coil itself further up her forearm or maybe that was nothing more than a trick of the light, "Do you take me for a whore?" She asked.

The king slowly shook his head, "No...but I'm more than aware enough to know that you Dornishwomen are rather wanton." His eyes had yet to leave Arianne.

And she noticed. She smiled and crossed her arms behind her back. She leaned forward to give him a glimpse of her cleavage, despite the fact that her breasts were already on show, "I didn't bed him." She said, "I merely charmed him. Charmed does not mean bed. I can show you the difference if you like." She finished, a predatory grin upon her fair face.

"I know of your charms. They are wasted on me."

"Is that so?" She asked, with a laugh. She turned and sauntered towards the bed. She did so whilst making a show of it judging by the way her hips had swayed from left to right. The king couldn't help but look on. She was telling him to look. She turned and fell on his bed, her hands outstretched to the side like an eagle about to take flight, but instead of flying, it fell, "Very comfy this bed Is."

The king could see the thicket of black hair that hid her sweet spot. His blood stirred, "Thank you. I can have one made for you, if you wish."

She sat up, leaning on her elbows. She made a show of crossing her legs, "So how many lucky wenches have found themselves being brought to this very bed and fucked by the king himself?"

Caspian blinked and look up in thought, his eyes distant, "Honestly, I really haven't had the time lately." His duties had made it difficult to seek out his own pleasures. In fact, the last woman he had bedded was Sansa, and that was some moons ago. Apparently, someone had forgotten to tell him that being a proper king required for him to go celibate.

His answer seemed to surprise Arianne. She just blinked at him and the lull in conversation seemed to take her away from the flow that she had set, "Really? Honestly I'm surprised. I find it difficult sometimes to think that you are the son of the Whoremonger King."

The king shrugged and made to remove the gold and satin doublet he wore, "I am my father's son in many respects, but no his son in others." The whoring being one of them, "It doesn't bother me that much."

The Princess of Dorne seemed unconvinced by his words, "Surely you have to have bedded someone in all this time. What about that Tyrell girl. She might as well be asking for you to take her to the side and ram your cock into her."

The king laughed, "No, not really. She's just trying to seduce me." Mischief sparkled in his eyes as he glanced at his now and then lover, "If I remember correctly, you did the same didn't you once upon a time."

She waved him off, "That was different."

The king didn't that was so, "I fail to see how, but whatever you say, my lady." He made his way towards her, unlacing his breeches, "You said something about christening this bed didn't you? I suppose you were volunteering?" He pulled his cock out. It was stiff and within the confines of his breeches and smallclothes, it had become rather painful.

Arianne gave him a sultry smile, "Whatever His Grace demands of me, I'm more than happy enough to oblige."

There was no need for any foreplay. Her thicket of black hair glistened in the candle light. Caspian immediately knew that Arianne had come to him wet and eager. She could have taken anyone to her bed, but she had come to him. This most likely meant something, but he put no further thought into the matter. At the moment, he was more concerned with taking his pleasure with her cunny.

She whimpered when she felt him enter him. Her hands went underneath his shirt and played and pinched with his nipples. The king was to engrossed into thrusting into Arianne to care, but he knew his nipples would be sore when everything was over and done with.

He had told her about this habit of hers, yet she had never listened to his complaints. Strangely enough, he had grown to like it, despite the soreness that came afterwards. It added an extra something to the pleasure he felt whenever he took her.

It must have been a rather long time since he last took a woman it seemed since he had found himself spending his seed into her earlier than he remembered ever doing. Even Arianne noticed and he knew he was never going to live it down at the end of the day, "It has been a _long _time for you hasn't it?" She asked in between breaths.

Caspian groaned as he rolled of her, his cock slowly going soft after his amorous activity, "I haven't had the time."

She rolled over and leaned on an arm and began to trace nonsensical shapes and figures on his soft woollen shirt, "If I was your queen, we would find the time anywhere," She then closed in to his ear, "Any place." She whispered with a certain kind of allure that only Arianne Martell would be able to use.

Caspian turned his head slightly to look at her, "I knew this wasn't just a social visit. So did you come here to seduce me, so I could take you to wife?"

She raised her head away from him, "Not really. I came for your cock mostly." She said, grabbing said bodily appendage, "The queen thing just came to me now." She gave it a squeeze.

"...I don't know why, but I feel somewhat hurt." She had come for his cock and not for the pleasure of his company? The bitch.

Arianne gave him an airy laugh that seemed to ring like soft, angel bells. She leaned into his face, a smile of mischief upon her lips, "Take me to wife and to be your queen, our nights of passion would never be boring."

The king found himself intrigued, "How so exactly?"

"Well, the Tyrell girl for starters would certainly feel left out. She has been trying so hard to get to your cock, and I'm not that cruel of a woman to deprive a person of something they yearn for."

The king chuckled, "You would invite her to our bed."

"Her and many others." She said, "I've always wanted to taste a Summer Islander."

"Good for you, I know this brothel."

She gave him a queer look, "I didn't know you attended to the service of brothels."

"I don't," _But my uncle does. "_I know people who do. I suppose the Summer Islander would be female, no?"

"Well, sometimes we can switch it around, if you like."

The king liked to think himself an open minded person, but..."That I would not like." There were somethings he would not like to do in his life. He didn't mind for people who had a taste for boys, as long as he wasn't there to view or partake in it.

"So close-minded." Arianne said, whilst flicking his nose.

A knock on his door attracted his attention. The king raised his head and looked to the door, along with Arianne, "Your Grace, you have a visitor." It was the voice of Ser Dantis, the knight on duty today.

"Who?" Caspian yelled as he removed Arianne's hand away from his chest and rose from the bed. He pulled up his breeches and tied his laces.

"Lady Margaery."

Caspian heard Arianne try and fail to stifle a giggle. He looked back at her, "Put some clothes on." He said to her.

She gave him a cat-like smile, "I'm fine as I am."

The king shook his head. He couldn't send Lady Margaery away, but he wondered what exactly she was doing here. He wondered if the ever courteous and graceful and tactful Maiden of Highgarden had finally decided throw caution to the wind and take to his bed? Not that the king would have minded or refused such an action.

"At least cover yourself." He said. She stuck her tongue out at him but she did as she was bid. He took in a breath of air. This was going to be rather awkward, the king knew, "Let her in."

The carved and ornate oaken door was pulled open by Ser Dantis. Once the door was opened enough to allow someone to enter, Lady Margaery walked in, dressed in a backless gown of light green that showed the tops of her breasts and the sides of her waist and hips, showing the curves of her slender yet shapely figure.

When she saw the king, she gave him a curtsy, "Your Grace-." She stopped when she noticed Arianne behind the king, on his bed. Naked. She blinked, but didn't let her surprise show in her voice, "Princess Arianne?" The door was closed behind her.

The king thought he heard a snicker come from beyond it.

From behind the king, the Princess of Dorne gave a smile towards the Maid of Highgarden, "Lady Margaery. I suppose this wasn't the way you thought we would have our first meeting?" Arianne allowed the bedsheet covering her to drop so slightly to reveal one of her breasts.

Credit had to be given to her Margaery. She remained calm and composed, she didn't even react to the naked breast. Instead, she smiled, "I would say that finding you naked within the king's chambers was certainly out of the scope of my expectations."

Caspian didn't know whether Margaery was speaking truthfully or whether he had just insulted Arianne. Instead, he decided to just stand aside and let the two women throw words at each other, "We Dornish are a passionate people." Arianne said, with a smile. Her smile turned wicked just ever so slightly, "Now you can't exactly judge me. I wonder, what were you planning to do so late at night in the King's royal chambers?"

Lady Margaery found herself a seat. The accusation didn't seem to deter her at all deter her at all, "Is it so wrong to come and visit a friend?" She smoothed out the skirt of her gown.

"At his late of an hour? Some would find that suspicious and scandalous."

The king thought he should put in his fair share of comments, "Just so it can be said, that I said it, my door is open to all." The women seemed to ignore him.

"More scandalous would be finding a princess of Dorne naked with the king's royal chambers."

Arianne gave her a disarming smile, "I would not be the first princess of Dorne to find herself within a king's chambers..." She took on a thoughtful look, "Then again, I suppose it can't be said the same for the Tyrells."

The smile on Margaery's face was somewhat tight, but still pleasant nonetheless, "I suppose not, but the most beautiful of roses take their time before blooming."

"But they wither and die, nonetheless in the glare of the sun." Arianne said. Lady Margaery's smile tightened some more. Arianne pressed on, "I hope you don't find it rude of me to ask you to leave? I was enjoying my time with the king."

Lady Margaery seemed to take an eternity to reply, but when she did, it was certainly unexpected. She rose from her seat and with one fluid movement, she removed her gown from herself, "That is for the king to decide." She said, looking at the king directly. She wasn't wearing any small clothes underneath her gown.

Caspian just stared at her before his wits returned, "Uh...can't you both stay?" It was a hopeful question. Arianne would most likely not mind, he didn't know about Margaery though.

Lady Margaery stepped out of the folds of her gown that was littered on the Myrish carpet underneath. Light seemed to glisten of her fair and slender legs with each step she took, "If the king so wishes."

XxX

"Why are you smiling so?" Lord Robb asked as they walked through the godswood. Robb was dressed in fine clothes, in the colours of his house, "You can't be this pleased to see me."

Robb and his party had come to King's Landing just a few days prior. As he had expected, Robb had come with his wife and the new and younger Lady of Winterfell, Jeyne Westerling. At seeing her face, he had come to recognise where he could recall hearing her name from.

She shared the same name and family as a queen of long history past but he was able to recall seeing her once at a ball held in Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin was never for such social interactions, but he knew that it was expected of him as the Lord of Casterly Rock to hold such events, if not, to take a proper account of his bannermen.

Most of the time, he used such times to speak of important matters with his bannermen.

"I'm not." The king replied easily. There was a slight shower of rain, so soft he could barely feel it on his skin. It was soothing yet irritating at the same time, "I have had quite the eventful couple of days."

"I suppose those events have been of an enjoyable nature then."

The king gave a nod of his head, "Very enjoyable." He had to control himself greatly to try and address the grin that threatened to sprout on his face. He had certainly enjoyed a couple of eventful days indeed, "So how have you been?"

The two decided to take shelter from the light summer shower underneath the trees of a great oak tree. Robb gave him a shrug of the shoulders, "Good, I suppose."

"I suppose?" The king asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. He delved deeper, "Come on, tell me what's wrong. Me and you are friends."

Robb smiled at him, "I suppose we are." Then he punched him.

Caspian fell to the ground onto his arse. He was able to catch himself from falling onto his back thanks to his arms, "Ow, what in the seven hells was that for?" He could taste blood on his lip. Robb was thankful that the king had left his Kingsguard knights out at the entrance of the godswood. If they had been present, Robb would have died for that. Probably.

Robb looked down on him with a tight face, "You bedded Sansa."

_..._This was going to be tricky. He could already tell how this conversation was going to go. There was no point in denying it if Sansa told him, "Yes, yes, I did." He said flippantly, without a care in the world, "She's a pretty girl. A very pretty girl. It would be a shame not to bed her at least once."

Robb just looked down at him, "You make her sound like some kind of _whore."_

The king frowned, "I realised. I didn't mean it that way." He sighed and raised a hand to run through his locks of white hair. He felt the dirt that was on his hands, "Look, it wasn't like that. It happened before my uncle attacked the city. We were vastly outnumbered and I thought we were going to die. Sansa thought so too, and she _didn't_ like Joffrey, but she did like me. One thing lead to another..." He finished off with a shrug.

Robb's anger seemed to leave him, "Sansa said the same." He held out a hand.

The king took it and found himself hoisted off the ground, "How did you come to learn of it? I'm surprised Sansa told you." He had always been of the mind that it was the sort of thing that Sansa would keep to herself, lest she thought the knowledge would shame her.

Robb gave him an even look that betrayed nothing, "She's with child."

The king was equal to the look and returned it. He smacked at his ears in a bid to clear out some cobwebs, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you there." He said after he was done, "Can you repeat that for me?"

"She's with child." Robb repeated, acquiescing with the request.

"Well...fuck." The king found himself at something of a loss of words, "I suppose she isn't married then."

"No."

"Good. Because I would be angry if you didn't invite me to the wedding you bastard." He said light-heartedly with a smile.

"This isn't a laughing matter." Robb said, his face tight, "You dishonoured her and she's keeping the child."

He gave him a look, "Why?" He was to have a bastard? _I can already hear the comparisons between me and father. _Well, he would cross that bridge when it came to it. At least one was far better than the dozens his father had with various women throughout the realm.

"I do not know." He admitted with a sigh, "I tried speaking to mother, to ask her to intervene, but she is of the mind that Sansa can do what she wishes. She's reluctant and fearful to breach the subject with her." His eyes, the deep blue of the Tullys then fixated on the king himself, "You have to marry her." It was an order, not a request.

Caspian already had an answer, "I can't do that."

Robb's face tightened in anger, "You have to marry her."

"Like I said before, I can't do that." The king sighed and looked away from Robb. Despite the light shower rain, there were still birds about, singing in the rain, "I wish it were that easy. I'm king now, certain things are expected of me. You should know me better than that Robb. Honour doesn't mean much to me."

"You have a code of conduct." Robb said. The king could feel the roll of those Tully eyes, "You have said this before."

The king nodded. When Tywin Lannister had fostered him so many years ago, he had been quick to diminish whatever influence the Starks had made on him. Honour being one of those influences he thought his heir would be better without.

The king did have some honour, as little as it was, but not as much as Robb would want. To stop himself from being something of a monster, he held a code of conduct to uphold. He found that easier to uphold rather than being honourable. Honourable meant an early grave.

"If I was still a prince, I would gladly marry Sansa."

"If you were still a prince and Sansa was with your child, Joffrey would have had the both of you killed."

"True, I suppose." That did seem like something Joffrey would do, but the king was more of a mind that Joffrey would personally cut the child out of Sansa's womb in front of him just for the torment before putting him in the dungeons. Joffrey might have been a cruel shit, but it seemed the prospect of kinslaying was something even he balked at.

From behind the king, Robb frowned, "Sansa has already grown with child. If she births your bastard, her marriage prospects might as well be destroyed."

"I'll take responsibility." The king said as turned to face Robb once more.

"You will?" The Lord of Winterfell asked, his eyebrow raised up his brow.

He nodded, "I will. I won't legitimise him." That would bring a whole slew of problems he didn't want to deal with. He was not going to be a second Aegon the Unworthy. Being compared to his father was just enough for him as he currently was, "Maybe you can adopt the babe into House Stark? He already has Stark blood in you."

"I can do that..." It would not be the first time a bastard was adopted into a noble house. Sometimes, some houses adopted natural daughters or sons when the main line is closing in on extinction. And it wasn't as if the bastard's birth would put any form of alarm on the succession of Winterfell.

And considering what happened to Bran and Rickon, one could never know when an additional Stark might come to be of use.

Even though Robb was thinking about the prospect of adoption, Caspian knew that he needed more than that, "I'll even find someone for Sansa to marry. Someone of equal status to her as a Lady of Winterfell."

Robb was sceptical, "And who exactly is that going to be? We've managed to keep the news of her with child a secret for now, but it will soon be found out, one way or another."

Instead of answering the question, the king just smiled, "Do you trust me?"

Robb's jaw tightened, "I suppose I do."

"Then trust me on this." He said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "When everything is all and done with. I promise you this, you will be staring at me owlishly."

"And if I find the match unsuitable?"

"You don't adopt the babe and he will remain become a Snow, a royal bastard, but a Snow nonetheless. I'll sort him out myself." He said, "Also, you can have the chance to gut me with _Ice."_

Robb smiled. A truly wicked smile of a smile, "I'll hold you to that."

The king just continued to smile at his friend, _He does realise I merely jesting with him, right? _The king hoped he did.

* * *

**AN: Some of you called the whole Sansa thing ages ago, and I have to say this, you bastards! Who gave you the right to guess where my story was going? Up yours.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Laters!**

**TheForeverKing**


	22. Chapter 22

**kaioo: He has considered marrying her, but the realm is fractured. Sansa was kept as a hostage in King's Landing yet the North kept fighting. Hostages don't always work. Also, Caspian and Robb are good friends, like their fathers. If one backs the other, the other will back the other.**

**If Caspian marries Margaery, the Reach is binded to the throne. Marriage alliances are far stronger than alliances formed from hostage taking.**

**Hail Emperor Naruto: Forget House Martell and Tyrell. He would have the Faith to deal with and he doesn't want another Faith Militant uprising on his hands.**

**U.N.S: Maybe...or a threesome with some other character except those two...who knows? I do ;)**

**Publicola: It will not be a harem-like situation. I won't even try to go into that territory. Too many problems arise with it.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own A Game of Thrones/ASOIAF_

* * *

Davos

_Black Betha _plowed through the ironborn long-ship like a hot knife through butter. Davos had held onto the gunwale, bracing for impact. His body had jerked forward when the ram of his ship made contact with the hull of long-ship.

He heard no screams or pleas for help from the ironborn that had found themselves thrown into the sea. It sort of helped that all of them were plead in full armour. When they hit the water, they sank, quickly. Sure enough, it gave no men to cry out for help or swim to a piece of wooden wreckage that was afloat.

The ironborn did not fear drowning. They weren't willingly into the embrace of their watery god, the Drowned God. That was something Davos couldn't help but find himself admiring and respecting.

It took a certain kind of courage to wear full armour when fighting combat among the open waters of the seas and oceans.

Davos took a minute to look around him. All around he could see signs of battle among the waters. He could hear the screams and shouts of men as they fought on their ships. Davos in particular noted the _Swordfish _currently contending with one of the larger ships of war that belonged to the Iron Fleet.

He did not know the name of the ship, but he could see it moving side by side the _Swordfish, _no doubt, one of the ships had been boarded. Which one, Davos did not know.

The smell of burning flesh and smoking wood hit his nostrils next after the sounds of battle, of men living and fighting and losing and dying. The sounds of wood snapping as ship ram into another ship.

Ironborn ships were aflame with orange fire and black smoke, no doubt the work of the barrels of flaming pitch that had been launched at them from the ships of the Royal Fleet at a distance when the ironborn had first charged at them to meet the Royal Fleet in close ship combat. Even now, he could still see some of the ships of the Royal Fleet continue to fling barrels of pitch from their on board catapults into the ranks of ironborn long-ships.

The battle was going well for them, _The battle for the sea that is._ He did not know how the battle on the ground faired, but he had faith in Lord Stannis that he would be able to lead his soldiers to victory. Stannis was, after all, one of the finest commanders of men in the realm, even if he was not loved by many, one would be hard-pressed to find a more able battle commander and strategist than him.

Lord Tywin Lannister and Lord Randyll Tarly were names that came to mind. There were many other lords that were able commanders of men, Robb Stark and the king himself coming to mind, but Davos had faith that his lord, if pressed, will be able to overcome both lords when it came to a battle of strategy and tactics.

And the Young Wolf of the North and the king were still boys, even they would find themselves hard-pressed to defeat their more experienced peers when it came to battle.

He held faith in Stannis because his lord had lead them to victory in the Redwyne Straits. Before they entered the Straits themselves, Stannis had given him command to take half the fleet and sail around the Arbor to take the ironborn in the rear when they met to battle in the Straits.

It would have been fool hardy to take all of the fleet, along with the Redwyne fleet stragglers that had joined them straight into combat against the ironborn, who would clearly out-number them among the waters.

Davos had done what was asked of him, yet when he sailed around the Arbor, he had feared at times that they would not sail quickly enough and that by the time they rounded the island to take the ironborn and the Iron Fleet in the rear as Stannis had asked for, it would be too late and all he would come to meet was a burning wreckage of half of the Royal Fleet that had stayed under the command of Stannis.

Freeing the Arbor and the Straits from the ironborn had been a bloody business. The ironborn had indeed out-numbered them, by his estimation, at least three-to-one. The enemy fleet consisted of the far more dangerous Iron Fleet under the command of the Victarion Greyjoy an able naval commander and numerous ironborn long-ships.

The long-ships had been an annoyance that Davos could have lived without. They had been fast and they had harried them when they got close enough to the Royal Fleet and when battle was joined with the Iron Fleet, a single ship might find itself engaged against the more purpose fitted ship of the Iron Fleet and maybe one or two or three long-ships.

Nonetheless, the ironborn were among the greatest sailors in the world and bravest people, but they were not the most disciplined. Some captains of the Iron Fleet fell for traps when they over-chased to eagerly in search of battle, resulting in them losing their ship to either fire or boarding.

The battle for the Straits had seemingly gone on for an entire day before the ironborn eventually decided that it was time to retreat. The men had cheered when they saw the last of the ironborn sail into the distance, back north and to whatever bases they held.

Lord Stannis had not been one of the people to cheer. He had watched them leave and had taken into account of his losses and had already been planning on what to do next after everything was over and done with.

When the Royal Fleet had taken port in the Arbor, they had captured several Iron Fleet ships, but that hadn't been enough to cover their losses and such, Lord Stannis had taken to commandeering any sea-worthy ship into a warship.

Now the Royal Fleet instead of bristling of two-hundred or so ironwood ships of war, it bristled with over a hundred or so of such ships along with more than a hundred-and-fifty merchant carracks and cogs that were fitted with the levies and knights and archers and crossbowmen that Lord Paxter had not called when his cousin Mace Tyrell called for his banners to march on King's Landing in Renly's name.

Stannis had also sent ravens to Oldtown asking the Hightowers to sent whatever ships they had to join the rag-tag fleet that was aiming to drive the ironborn back to the Iron Islands. Lord Hightower had replied and had sent every galley and galleas he had repaired or been recently built to protect Oldtown from anymore attacks from the ironborn.

Still, even with such numbers, they had still been outnumbered by the ironborn, _The land of ten thousand kings. _Davous thought. He didn't know who had said such a thing, but he couldn't help but praise them on their correct description of the ironborn.

Every captain was a king upon his ship and they did what they will. Only the remnants of the Iron Fleet fought with any sort of discipline, the rest of the ironborn ships did what they will.

The former smuggler turned knight saw several long-ships coming from the right of _Black Betha, _"Starboard! Scorpions!" Davos yelled out his orders amidst the sounds of battle. This was to be his first taste of full on warfare among the seas and for a smuggler, he felt that he was out of his depth and out of his element, but he was willing to follow his lord to all the seven hells and back if need be.

His son Matthos repeated the order as he walked up and down the deck, directing men and helping wheeled the scorpions to the right side of the ship, "Scorpions to starboard! _Scorpions to starboard_!"

Davos looked at his son and found himself worried. If an ironborn archer or crossbowman saw him shout out orders, they would think him an officer and try to remove him from the equation, _He is is safe. _Davos thought. Matthos wore ring mail and boiled leather for his armour. For an arrow, that was good enough, but for a bolt? He did not want to think about it, _The least he could do is wear a helmet._

The scorpions were quickly wheeled into position and the crewmen quickly went to loading the weapons with bolts. Steel tipped bolts that had enough power in them to pierce full plate armour and the wood of the long-ships to sink them.

He saw Matthos look towards him, his eyes asking for the order to fire. Davos raised his hand, "Hold!" He shouted and amidst the sounds of battle, the men heard him, "_Hold..." _He repeated before he saw the ships close in. He immediately dropped his hand, "_Fire!"_

Matthos quickly turned to the scorpions, "_Fire!" _

The scorpions fired several bolts directed at the long-ships. Many pierced the hulls of the ships, some entering from the side and others entered from the deck. Davos had to cringe when he saw several men get pierced by a scorpion bolt before being nailed into one of the ships masts.

The barrage of bolts seemed enough to slow down the ironborn long-ships from approaching them, allowing his archers and crossbowmen to pick them off from a distance. Soon enough, the decks of the long-ships found themselves littered with ironborn dead.

The men gave a small cheer of victory before another enemy attracted their attention. Despite this, Davos did not think that they would come out all the better from this battle, _If we are to come out victorious._ The ironborn were too numerous and they had made the Shield Islands their home and forward base. Many of the ironborn long ships were located at the Shield Islands and the number that met them in battle made it seem like the battle in the Redwyne Straits had been a simpler and easier time, _We can't do this forever. _It was now a war of attrition. It was as simple as that.

A horn sounded out in the distance and it was soon joined by another and another and another.

Davos quickly recognised It. It was time, "_About face!" _The sailor on the wheel quickly spun it around to turn the steer in a free direction whilst the oars of the ship on the port side stopped rowing, allowing the rowing from the starboard side to make them make a quick turn to the left side and eventually make a half turn.

When the turn was complete, the port oars were quick to begin rowing again in rhythm and time with the starboard oars. The _Black Betha_ wasn't the only ship to do such a thing. He could see the _Fury, Swordfish, Red Raven _and many others also make such a turn and sail away from the ironborn. Some ships couldn't make such a turn as they were busy engaged in boarding action against the ironborn and Davos prayed for them...for they would need the mercy of the gods to shine down upon them for what was to come next.

As they sailed away, several small cogs sailed at a gentle pace through the sea towards the heart of the ironborn fleet. All of the cogs were unmanned.

Davos tightened his features. He knew that they were outnumbered and needed every trick they could think of to win a battle such as this, but he still found himself against what was to come next. Even he didn't think a savage people such as the ironborn deserved what was next to come.

His hand went to the pouch that hang around his neck and felt the bones inside. He made a small prayer.

_Grief, _one of the ironborn long-ships, the few that were actually purposed for war instead of raiding saw an easy target in one of the cogs. The oars of the ship plowed through the slowly advancing cog before it went sprow first, ramming straight into the hull of the ship in such a speed that it was able to breach the hull.

Shouts from among the ironborn upon the ship could be heard, even as far away as Davos was. He wondered how those shouts would turn to screams of terror and horror when the ironborn realised what that very same cog held within its hull.

From the breach opened by _Grief, _a luminous green liquid began to slowly ooze out of the cog's hull.

Davos hoped that they had gained enough distance away from the cog. He then heard a shot sharp _woof_ as if someone had blown in his ear. Half a heartbeat letter, _Grief_ disappeared in a roar of green flame and smoke. That roar was soon joined by several others as they bathed the day in green light.

Davos and others had to look away from the explosion lest they go blind from the sheer intensity of the green explosion. Soon enough, the initial explosion was gone and Davos could now take into account the damage they had given their enemy.

But that was easier said than done. In front of him, he couldn't see anything but green roaring flames that barred his vision of the other side, of where the ironborn and their long-ships had been located.

But just because he couldn't _see_ did not mean he couldn't hear. Davos wished that it was the other way round, until he started seeing the black, charcoaled bodies of men. He then wished he couldn't hear and see.

He wished that he couldn't hear the screams of men being burned alive. He wished he couldn't hear the screams of men shouting in panic, pleading for help to their Drowned God and sometimes to the new gods. At that, he winced, for he knew that some of the loyal sailors had been caught in the blast.

He prayed for them.

He then wished that he couldn't see the charcoaled bodies that were floating in the waters of the Sunset Sea. Of the men burning alive jumping into the waters of the sea itself to quench the flames only to see that the green fire burned in water as well as air.

It was said that the ironborn did not fear drowning. Davos couldn't help but wonder what would kill them first, the green fire or the waters?

"Wildfire..." He muttered underneath his breath. He knew of the stuff. A close relation of dragon fire it was said. If this was wildfire, Davos wondered what dragon fire was like, _I rather not know._ He thought as he closed his eyes to the devastation happening in front of him.

This was war and the ironborn had done many a reprehensible things during their time raiding along the western coast of Westeros. Yet Davos found himself thinking that the ironborn fighting against them now didn't deserve the death that was being granted to them.

It reminded him too much of the red woman's fires. He wondered if the red woman was seeing the very same sight that he was seeing. And he wondered if she was, was she seeing visions in these unnatural green flames of the Alchemists' making?

XxX

Cersei

Ever since the start of this sorry business, Lord Tywin Lannister had finally returned to the capital. To King's Landing. The queen now had all her immediate family surrounding her, although she would have done without one presence, but that was out of her control. She also wished that her family still included her golden boy, Joffrey. Her sweet darling boy, with his beautiful golden curls and plump, pouty lips.

Even now, she couldn't help but miss him. She continued to love him dearly, even after he had left this world, _Far too soon._ He could have gone on to become someone the maesters of tomorrow would study and praise for all time until the end of days.

But alas, her wilful boy was now dead and instead, his brother was king and was making a right royal fuss of things. She was sure that with his grandfather's return to the city, he would start to correct all the follies that Caspian had done.

Cersei decided that she would start by having supper with her family. She would have to invite the Imp out of nothing more than courtesy. It wouldn't dwell for the enemies of House Lannister to think there was a division in the family if they were to learn that the queen had held supper with her immediate family barring her impish brother.

She thought of inviting Myrielle and Cerenna Lannister, then immediately thought better of it. The two girls had been nothing more than bitter disappointments to her. All she had done was simply give them the notion that they could find themselves becoming queen if they were to marry Caspian.

That should have been enough for them to chase after him, maybe even more for this Myrielle who had a history with her son. As it seems, the two girls were utterly incompetent that the queen was surprised that they were even Lannisters to begin with. They simply did not seem to have the mental faculties to grab what they wanted, or in their case, what the queen wanted _them_ to grab, Caspian.

She had lost all hope in them and was merely waiting for the chance to dismiss them back to the Rock. If the queen was to stand within their incompetency for any longer, she feared that their stupidity and incapability would spread to her.

Whilst Jocelyn was making sure that everything was in readiness for their family's supper, Senelle helped the queen into her a new gown. A gown that she had ordered for special events such as today. It had stripes of shiny green satin alternating with stripes of plush black velvet and intricate black Myrish lace above the bodice. Myrish lace was costly, but it was necessary for the first lady of the realm to look at her best at all times.

Her wretched washerwomen had shrunk all of her gowns. She would have had them all whipped if it wasn't for Caspian, "It's a gown. Whipping people over a gown is just petty mother." He had the gall to tell her. Her nostrils still flared at the thought.

Senelle led her to the full-body sized looking mirror and the queen took in her reflection. She smiled to herself, _Very good. _She was dazzling, this the queen knew. How there was ever going to be a queen more beautiful than her, she would never know. Now that she thought about it, Maggy the Frog had been nothing more than an ugly, grotesque fool.

When she entered her solar, Myrcella and Tommen were already there, talking amongst themselves. Tommen was dressed in a red, studded doublet wth a black shirt underneath with puffed sleeves and red and gold striped breeches and dark red boots. He looked all the part of a prince and the queen found herself a little worried when she noticed that her son had lost some of the plumpness she recalled him having.

The loss of weight alarmed her, _Is Caspian driving him too hard as his squire?_ She remembered how Robert had treat Tyrek and Lancel when they were his squires. Caspian wouldn't do that, especially to his darling little brother, but he was going to make sure that he had some words with her son about how to treat his younger brother.

Her little princess was dressed in a gown similar to that of her own, but instead of having black and green alternating colours, she had gold and Lannister crimson colours on her gown, _She's so beautiful. _Cersei thought, _She will be a jewel in the future. _She continued before a dark memory, one she had repressed to the back of her mind crawled its way to the front of her mind, "_Aye," Maggy had said, "Queen you shall be, until a younger, more beautiful one comes along and take everything that you hold dear."_

The queen stopped and cast a lingering look in the direction of Myrcella. It seemed her daughter had felt the eyes of her mother on her as she turned to face her, "Mother?" The girl asked, the light of the candles and the hearths making her eyes dance with the light and flames, "Is something the matter?"

The question roused Cersei from her thoughts. She shook her head, "No sweetling." The queen said as she made her way towards her only daughter. She gave her a light one-handed hug and a kiss on the forehead, "Nothing is the matter." _Why did I remember such a dreadful thing? _Myrcella loved her and although her daughter was a pretty little thing she was still something of a child. She had yet to flower. And for her to be queen, Caspian and Tommen would have to die.

She didn't even bother thinking of Stannis and that deformed daughter of his. She would die a thousands deaths rather than give her rightful throne to the brother of _that _man.

"Have you been waiting for long?" She asked her children as she took her own seat near the head of the table. She could smell the food that had been prepared and was now simply waiting to be served.

Tommen shook his head. It was then that she noticed that he no longer had golden curls that fell to his shoulders. Instead, he had short hair of a similar fold that Caspian had worn not long ago. Cersei didn't like that. She always preferred having Tommen with his long curls. It reminded her of Joffrey. She would have some words with him later on.

"No." Tommen replied, "We just arrived not long ago."

Myrcella agreed with her younger brother, "We are just waiting for the others now."

The queen gave them each a smile as she waved for a Senelle to pour her a drink of wine. Jaime was the first of her family to arrive, dressed immaculately in gold and Lannister crimson. He flashed her a sharp smile that glistened white, _He always had such white, perfect teeth. _

"Your Grace," Her twin greeted her, taking one of her hands and kissing her fingers, "You look lovely this evening." His kisses were far smoother and practiced than the ones that Kettleblack brother's had given her. It was a good thing then that she was not to suffer such kisses ever again, having seen the last of them thanks to Jaime.

"And you as well Jaime." She returned.

She watched him as Jaime allowed her hand to drop and greeted his niece and nephew happily enough, _Our children. _But such knowledge was best left unrevealed. The relationship between Jaime and his children was a cool one.

Cersei didn't mind such a relationship. To the world, Myrcella and Tommen were the trueborn children of Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, _May there never be a second. _And for as long as she drew breath and beyond, she was going to make sure that the world kept believing that lie, for if that lie were to fall apart at the seems, she would lose her head, just as Jaime would, _And father would view us even lower than that twisted monstrosity. _That she could not allow.

Lord Tywin himself was the next to arrive. Even before he had entered the room, Cersei could feel him approach. Tywin Lannister had a presence that feel men could dare copy and such a presence was heavy and powerful, fitting for a lion such as him, _And I am his daughter. Of his own blood. A Lioness of the Rock. _Yet it seemed that people did not seem to take her as seriously as they did her lord father. Caspian thought to balk her whenever she made a suggestion, Tyrion as well and others. When a problem or situation of state arised, they went to Tyrion or Caspian, not her, _It's all because I am a woman. If I was a man, could swing a sword, they would come flocking to me for my wisdom and counsel. _They even gave Robert more respect than her, and her husband was a witless sort.

The very presence of Tywin seemed to unnerve Myrcella and Tommen. Apart from Caspian, Joffrey and Myrcella and Tommen had yet to ever meet their grandfather. For a second, Cersei thought she had seen the barest glimpse of a smile on her lord father's lips as he looked down at his grandchildren, "Princess Myrcella. Prince Tommen." He greeted curtly and shortly, his voice even and implacable like a glacier. He took a seat at the head of the table at the far end.

Myrcella was the first to gather up her courage, "Grandfather." She greeted courteously with a bow of the head, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"As it is mine." Lord Tywin returned, "You look much like your lady mother. You have her beauty."

The princess beamed at the praise, "Thank you, grandfather."

Cersei didn't feel like beaming. Instead, she was worried. Lord Tywin would do anything for the benefit of the family, and because of this, Cersei began to fear for her little princess. Would Myrcella be shipped of to marry some lord because Lord Tywin had use of him? She wouldn't allow it.

Ever.

Tommen also had some interchange with his grandfather but his was far more mild than his sisters. Cersei didn't like that. As a prince and a lion, he needed to be far more courageous than he was. It wouldn't do well for him to be cowardly or weak-willed.

Finally, the king and her despicable brother finally arrived. They were both japing and laughing when they entered the queen's solar, "Ah, my apologies." The Imp said as he took a moment to take in some breaths of air, "We aren't late for anything are we? If so, our apologies." They made to go for their own seats. Caspian took the other, last remaining head of the table and the Imp took a seat near Myrcella and Tommen. Both children seemed to be delighted to see him and their brother.

_Tommen and Myrcella were always closer to Caspian than Joffrey. _Cersei cast him a cold, tight smile, "None at all, dear brother. I'm sure you and the king had many important matters to discuss."

The two shared a sly look, "Many important matters indeed." Her second-born parroted with something of a smile of mirth on his lips. His mismatched eyes drifted over to his grandfather, "Grandfather, good to see you back in King's Landing after so long. How have you taken to be back after so many years away?"

The servants began to serve the food. They started off on a bowl of chicken and tomato soup with a side of freshly baked bread. Cersei ordered for another glass of wine to be poured into her cup. She noticed Jaime watching her intently with something of a frown on his face. She wondered what that was about.

"It's still the same miserable, stinking city that I left years ago." Lord Tywin said as he broke apart a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup, "It's as if I had never left."

The king allowed himself to laugh, "I suppose that's true."

From down the table, the twisted brother of hers that was called Tyrion was eyeing Lord Tywin with those monstrous eyes of his. More accurately, at the chain of office he wore around his neck. The gold hands clasped together that symbolised him as the Hand of the King.

Lord Tywin had only arrived in the capital and the Red Keep only yesterday, but he had been quick to displace Tyrion and take over his duties as Hand of the King. Cersei couldn't be anymore pleased, and it was about time they started talking about a subject that would go on to determine the future of the family.

The soup and bread had done enough as starters. What followed that plate was spiced lamb with vegetables. The queen signalled for another glass of wine, "So Caspian," She began as she cut into the meat, "Have you thought about this whole marriage ordeal? The sooner I can get to know my future good-daughter, the sooner this can be over and done with." She said light-heartedly, to get her son on the subject.

Tommen was quick to look at his brother, "You are getting married?"

Myrcella was also curious, "Will it be Lady Margaery?" That caught Cersei off by surprise. She wondered how Myrcella even knew who that whore from Highgarden was. She would have words with her daughter later on, "Oh please let it be Lady Margaery. She is such a lovely lady and it'll be so nice to have her as a sister."

Lord Tywin and Tyrion had found themselves rather interested in the subject of the conversation. Jaime seemed to not care at all about the topic as he continued to eat his food, sometimes, casting looks in her direction whenever their lord father wasn't looking.

Cersei wanted to frown. Did he not know how to hold himself back? Especially in front of father? Did he want to ruin them all?

The king raised a curious eyebrow as he looked at his younger sister, "I know you and Lady Margaery are close, seems like I didn't know that you were _that _close."

Myrcella had the grace to blush, "We sometimes meet and talk and do many a things together. She has such lovely and lively companions."

"Well, I suppose you have been lacking in the friends of the same sex department for a while now haven't you?"

"Caspian," Only a man of Tywin Lannister's reputation and stature would call the king by his first name, "Your marriage. Who will you wed? You know about the importance of such a union."

"I'm sure he does father." The Imp said as he took a sip of his wine, "He spend several years underneath your tutorship. I'm sure he knows every thing he needs to do about keeping the family legacy intact."

Lord Tywin ignored him, "Who is it going to be the Tyrell girl or the Martell girl?"

The king stared right back at his grandfather, "You are a smart man grandfather. I'm sure you can guess who is the most desirable out of the two political wise."

Lord Tywin returned back to his meal, "I see you are still as impertinent as ever."

Cersei didn't understand what had just happened. By how Lord Tywin had reacted to her son's words, he clearly knew who he was to wed, yet she did not. She didn't know how to feel about such a thing.

"Oh come now, don't get all vague and cryptic," Her twin, Jaime suddenly said as he cut off a piece of meat, "You now have me interested. I am the Lord Commander, shouldn't I be privy to who is soon going to join the royal family?"

The king merely shrugged his shoulders, "You'll learn soon enough. It won't be long now."

XxX

Caspian

"_The Andal Laws and Customs." _The Queen of Thorns said as she looked down on the great tome that rested on the king's desk, "A tedious read if I have ever seen one."

Lady Olenna Tyrell was a short woman, in her sixties and when she spoke, it showed that she had no teeth left whatsoever within the confines of her mouth. Despite the loss of her teeth, her words still had a certain bite to them. The woman walked with a cane and said that she was near deaf, but the king thought this was nothing more than a ruse to keep people thinking that she was just a frail old woman.

Caspian was not one of those people that thought of her as frail. In fact, he liked to think that anyone with an epithet such as the Queen of Thorns would be anything but frail. The king rose from his seat and made to a side desk. He offered the Tyrell matriarch a drink. She refused, "Unfortunately, I'll be reading many of such tedious reads for the next foreseeable future."

The old woman let out a scoff, "No wonder your hair has taken to the colour of an old man so soon and so quickly. You _are _an old man in the inside aren't you, Your Grace?"

"Well, I won't deny that Lady Olenna." What was the use to denying it? He liked reading and he would admit that he was bookish to a fault, but he also liked occasionally battering people with some kind of weapon and working up a sweat in the drill yard, "But whether it's tedious or not, it's a book I need to read for something I'm working on." The king retook his seat.

Lady Olenna was curious in what the king had said, but sure enough, she didn't press the subject, "You take your kingship far too seriously."

The king smiled at her, "Would you have another Aegon the Unworthy? Or the Whoremonger King that was my father? Maybe another Mad King?"

The Queen of Thorns wagged her finger at him, as if she was giving a telling of at her own child or grandchild, "Careful there, Your Grace," She said to him, "The dragon's blood is within you. As weak as it is, it's still within you nonetheless."

Caspian barked out in laughter, "And you wouldn't want me to risk it?" He felt like wiping away a stray tear, but he didn't. Instead, he took a drink of his wine, "Then again, I suppose Tommen would make an easier person to manipulate if he were king. He is a rather tractable young lad."

Lady Olenna smiled at him. A thin, toothless smile, "And as King Robert's trueborn son, he also has dragon's blood within him." From the way she had said it, Caspian knew that she didn't for a moment believe that Tommen was the trueborn son of Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon.

He found himself uncaring, "I suppose that's true. To alleviate whatever fears you have, I swear upon my the old and new gods, I won't allow the dragon's madness to envelope me."

Lady Olenna allowed herself to laugh, "Well, not that I'm one for the banter and all, I do wonder what the king wanted with a little old lady like me?"

"Willas." The king said with a smile.

The Queen of Thorns raised an eyebrow. The skin of her forehead and brow rinkled some more than it already was, "I suppose we're talking about Willas Tyrell aren't we? My grand-son? The one with the bad leg?"

"Yes, that one. The very same."

"What of him?" The old woman's tone was much the same way that she spoke, but the king could tell that it had cooled off rather significantly, even if she didn't show it.

"Well, let's see..." The king relaxed into the back of his seat, with the glass chalice filled with wine still in hand, "How old is he again? One-and-twenty? Two-and-twenty? For someone that is the heir to Highgarden, how has he gone for so long without being married?"

The Queen of Thornes was quick to grasp were the direction of the conversation was going, "So you want to marry of your sister to my grandson? Well, I would admit, that's one way to bind House Tyrell to the Throne."

"Whoever said anything about my sister?" He didn't want to deal with the trouble that came from having his sister marry Willas Tyrell. His grandfather and uncle would think of it as a good match, but his mother, who already had something of an ambivalent relationship with him would not stand for it.

For someone that was as unfit a mother as she was, she liked to keep her brood close at hand.

Once again, Lady Olenna raised an eyebrow, "If not your sister who?"

"Sansa Stark."

"The northern girl with child." Lady Olenna said, "Your child if the stories are to be true."

The king wasn't even going to question her how she knew, "Yes, I bedded Sansa Stark. What of it?"

She had an amused smile upon her lips when she replied, "She was betrothed to your brother." She said, mirth dancing in those eyes of hers.

"My brother wouldn't have known what to do with a woman if she stripped naked in front of him, spread her legs open and gave him written instructions." He paused for a moment. Joffrey could barely read or count to twenty, _And he needed his hands to help him with that_, "Actually, strike the last part. Not written instructions, but verbal instructions."

The Queen of Thorns snorted, "You don't think much of your brother do you, Your Grace?"

"He would have made the Mad King look like a saint in comparison." The king replied cooly. So cool that it could be said that the temperature in the room had dropped, "But enough about my brother, Sansa Stark to Willas Tyrell. A good match if any."

"She's been _used." _The old woman stressed.

The king rolled his eyes, "And you were a maid when you came to your husband's bed?"

She gave him a thin smile, "That's the official story, yes."

Caspian couldn't help but laugh at the gall of it all. He liked her. He really did. If she had been his grandmother, she would have certainly made things interesting, _I should introduce her to grandfather. He would just love that. _"She's young and fertile and Willas _is_ planning on marrying someone right? Even his brother Garlan is married, and he's the second son." It was far more difficult finding a wife for the second son rather than the first son. Even more so when it came to the third son.

And that wasn't even bringing in the problems of finding lands and keeps and castles for those very sons to inherit.

"That maybe so," The old woman agreed, "But what is to think to take your leavings?"

"He gains a wife who is the mother of a king's bastard. And to make the offer even more incentive, I'll even throw in some lands for Garlan and his heirs. The crown is in possession of a large amount of land in the Crownlands for your information." That seemed to give the woman some pause, but he saw that she needed more than that, "And I'll even name Loras to the Kingsguard."

The Queen of Thorn's eyebrows quirked up her head, "Loras in the Kingsguard? I suppose that's something Loras would want to aspire too. But why? I'm sure there is plenty enough other knights in the realm more worthy of the last spot in your personal guard."

The king smiled as he leaned forward, "Was I mistaken into thinking that Queen Margaery wouldn't want her dear brother protecting her? Like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys? Like Ser Jaime and Queen Dowager Cersei?"

She scoffed, "Hopefully, not anything like your mother and uncle if the stories to be true." She talked as if the stories and rumours were true. He could have reprimanded her, but once again, he found himself not caring, _Let them talk. _If it was true, the talking could may haps drive truths to be brought to the surface or hidden deep underground. She gave him a calculating look, "So you chose Margaery have you? What about that Dornish girl you were so close too?"

"I could give you a hundred reasons why, but do you want to know the truth?" She gave him a nod. He then proceeded to grace her with the truth, "Her mouth."

The old woman was confused, "Her mouth?"

The king nodded, "I don't know what they teach in Highgarden, but I can definitely say that I had never felt as much pleasure as I did the day, actually, night Margaery Tyrell took my cock into her mouth. Arianne doesn't even come close, as skilled as she is."

Lady Olenna just stared at him for what seemed like eternity before bursting out in laughter. She controlled herself for a moment, "I always knew the girl was good. Far better than me, truth be told." She leaned in close, "Do you know how I came to marrying my late husband?"

_No, no I don't know, but I particularly don't care. _He could have said, but instead, he merely shook his head and said, "No." Giving her the notion to continue with her story.

"I was originally set to marry some Targaryen, but when I first saw him, with his ludicrous silver hair and powdery face, I knew he wouldn't do. My sister on the other hand was to marry Luthor. One day, when I was returning for an embroidery lesson, I found myself lost."

The king smiled in amusement, "Found yourself lost straight to Lord Luthor's bedchambers did you?"

Lady Olenna smiled at him, "Yes. The next day when he was supposed to propose to my sister, he could barely walk or could barely even spare a thought about my sister. All he thought was about me and what I had given him the night before."

The king couldn't help think of how eerily similar that was to the story of Ellyn Reyne when she tried to steal his great-grandfather from his great-grandmother, just so she could be the Lady of the Rock. He found it highly amusing nonetheless, "I doubt you and your sister are in good graces."

"We haven't talked in years." She said with a dismissive hand gesture, "You would think she would have forgotten such a thing by now." She rose from her chair, "Very well then, Willas shall wed your leavings when she has given birth to your bastard. Garlan shall be given some land, extensive I hope. Loras shall come to be named in the Kingsguard. Margaery shall be your queen. Am I forgetting anything in my old age?"

The king shook his head, "None at all."

"Then by your leave, Your Grace." She said, giving him a small bow of the head before making her way out of the room.

As he watched her leave, the king couldn't help but wonder how the Dornish will take to this, _Not greatly I suppose. _In the end, he had to think about which one was better, Dorne or the Reach and the choice couldn't even be easier, _Maybe I could offer Myrcella to Prince Quentyn? _His mother would disagree but he would have to assert his authority. Even with Prince Trystan as his hostage, he doubted that would be enough to simmer whatever rage the Dornish had for the Lannisters and the Baratheons, as little as it was.

The king had returned to the great tome that laid on his table, reading it and making notes and accounts before the door to his offices opened once more. He rose his head from the book, "Grandfather. Uncle." He said in greeting towards Lord Tywin and Lord Tyrion, "What is it?"

His dwarf uncle had a smile on his lips, "Great news sweet nephew, the Royal Fleet has driven back the ironborn from the Shield Islands and Stannis and some of the Reacher lords have also captured them back from the ironborn." He clapped his hands together, "This war is all but won. The ironborn are on their last legs. It won't be long now till we are able to assault the Iron Islands."

The king rubbed his eyes to clear them. He was beginning to see letters with every blink, _I'm reading too much. "_Has Uncle Stannis sent any reports about the battles? Both the land and sea. I'll need to have a look over them."

"He has." His grandfather answered, his voice cool and his eyes flecked with gold boring into him, "We need to talk about Stannis."

Even as tired as he was, Caspian could make a guess as to the subject, "I suppose it has something to do with his accusation against my mother."

"The very same." If Lord Tywin was angry, he didn't show It, "I will not stand by and have the honour of our House be besmirched. He has to answer for this slander."

The Imp made for the side desk that held the chalices and the wine. He poured himself a glass, "How?" He asked, "This is Stannis Baratheon. If he thinks these words to be true, he is not going to recant them. Not even in death."

The king rolled his eyes, "If Uncle Stannis dies, he can't recant anything. Period." That and his death would just make it seem like the Lannisters are trying to cover up the supposed tale of incest. It would do nothing more than drive more people to whisper and talk about the validity of his word and for some as honourable as Stannis Baratheon, well, some people might just come to believe his words.

"Then how about a trial of combat?" Tyrion suggested, "It's the queen's honour that is at stake. Prince Aemon defended his sister when her honour was questioned. My good-brother does the same, let it be solved underneath the eyes of the gods."

The king had a wry smirk on his lips, "I suppose Uncle Jaime will be the one championing her?" The answer was already obvious. This he knew and the king knew that the others knew, "Singers are going to be making a song about this. We'll settle the matter when Uncle Stannis has returned to the capital. For now, leave me be, I have a lot of reading ahead of me."

Lord Tywin stepped forward, curious as to the book in front of him, "May I enquire as to what exactly you are working on?"

The king looked up and smiled at his grandfather, "It's still only in the beginning. I shall show you the fully drafted version when I'm done writing it."

Lord Tywin gave a simple nod, "As you wish. Your Grace." He gave a bow and left. Tyrion left not long afterwards.

The king returned to his work, "And now I just need to find a tome on First Men laws and customs..." He sighed, "Maybe the Citadel will have something of the same ilk or Winterfell." But he was thinking too far ahead. He still had this task in front of him as of now.

* * *

**AN: Alright, next chapter, Caspian's sixteenth birthday. Some revelations here and there and he gets closer to the truth about Jon Arryn's and Ned Starks death. Maybe will even include the final phase of the ironborn islands which means several battle scenes. Most likely Caspian's, Robb's and Asher's and maybe even the Greyjoy children... **

**I'll also be giving snippets into the problems that are going to rise from his reformations. And since some of you have a knack of guessing where I'm going with my story, try to figure out what's the first thing he is going to reform from the rather admittedly, blatantly obvious clues I gave you in Caspian's chapter.**

**For those of you who were routing for Arianne, Caspian's choice to disregard her and choose Margaery instead will be explained in the next chapter.**

**Oh yes, Dany and Bran's stories are pretty much the same. I won't touch Bran, but I will get back to Dany after a certain point in time.**

**Jon's story also starts a little belatedly due to some changes I have made in the canon of ASOIAF. I'll tell you guys when Jon's story has reached the crucial wildling/Ygritte stage, but don't expect it for a while.**

**Oh yes, I decided to push back winter by a year or so. The year is currently 299AC so winter will be coming 301AC or 302AC depending on how my original plot works out. Involves politics, war, sex and death just so you know.**

**Peace!**

**TheForeverKing**


	23. Chapter 23

**ChunkyFunkyMunky: Dany's got this whole vengeance thing going on for her. I don't think I'll be able to make that work. She feels compelled to retake the throne from the usurper and history has shown that such things always end up with either the usurper or usurpee getting their heads chopped off.**

**BlackhawkStampede: Politics mate. And if you want an Arianne like story, go for Lion with Antlers. It has the Black Prince premise marrying Arianne Martell. I personally don't think a Baratheon/Martell marriage would have worked. The whole Martell thing is to take revenge upon the Lannisters and by extention the Baratheons for the deaths of Elia and her children.**

**Dillon Baker: The Faith and polygamy don't go well together.**

**CaintheFirstDemon: Actually, it's never said if it's illegal or not, but from my understanding, Maegor did the whole polygamy thing, his Black Brides and the Faith rose up in arms, well that was one of the reasons they rose up in arms. Although it's never said, I think polygamy isn't tolerated.**

**Trap3r: I think GRRM already does that with Volantis and Pentos and Braavos I think. They choose their own leaders if I remember correctly.**

**Saint River: Riverlands have been damaged by the war and the riverlands is one of the main food suppliers, so yeah, the Tyrells need to be anchored to the throne, if it means pleasing them more than necessary. And anyway, note that Caspian gives Garlan lands from the crownlands instead of coming up with something coming from the Reach.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/GOT_

* * *

Caspian

By the standards he had recently found himself dealing with, it was certainly a slow day when it came to his duties as a king. Of course, there were papers in need to be read over and signed and sometimes, sealed if the king agreed with them (Which, most of the time he did). At the end of the day, Caspian had found himself falling into a routine when it came to his office of king.

Every week, there was at least three small council meetings every other day. Then after that, he would go to his office and read papers that detailed various reports, requests and general situation reports about the happenings of his kingdom.

The most noticeable being that at the moment, the kingdom was still in a state of civil war, but that would soon changed. The ironborn had been driven all the way back to Fair Isle and soon enough, back to the Iron Islands. By now, the ironborn would have noted that the war was a foregone conclusion and the smart thing would have been to surrender...but the ironborn were a stubborn lot. Most of them were prepared to die one way or another, although there had been reports that some ironborn captains had deserted Balon Greyjoys cause. Some had switched their flags ready to kneel once more to the Iron Throne, others, not wanting to give up their cause but not wishing to fight for a doomed cause were going for the Stepstones, to live a life of piracy.

Although these ironborn were low in number as the standard ironborn ship was a long-ship. Not exactly something that was useful when it came to pirate related activities.

At Seagard and the Banefort, two hosts were convening on the two locations. In Seagard, it was mostly northerners from the eastern shore who wanted to have 'words' with the ironborn for what they had done to the eastern coast of the North. The king knew that the moment that the festivities for his name-day where over and done with, Robb was off to command that host.

There was a certain blood lust in Robb, this the king knew. He wanted vengeance for the death of his younger brothers at the hands of the ironborn and most importantly, Theon Greyjoy. Caspian had met Theon a few times. A handsome and comely youth who always had a smile on his face, _I wonder if he'll be smiling when Robb is done with him? _Well, he would be dead, so the point was moot when it came to him smiling anymore.

Thinking of Theon Greyjoy lead the king to think of what he would have to do about the Greyjoys. This was the second time they had rebelled and unlike Renly, he had no incentive to let them live, _I suppose the only thing to do is have them killed and have their lands and titles attainted. _Well, the justice there was a bit disproportionate, so the king supposed he would have Balon Greyjoy executed, Theon as well. In fact, he was more than likely going to have to execute the entire male line of the House, _There's a daughter, but by herself, she's useless. _Westerosi society in general was very patriarchal but women still had some power. The ironborn? Well, their thoughts on the matter were more likely that women were supposed to be found in the kitchen during the day and in their bed at night.

That was simply how their culture was. He doubted they would willingly follow a female leader, _Their culture will have to change._ He realized with a sudden start, but how did he change a culture from the ground up? It was at times like these that he sometimes wished Joffrey was still alive to deal with this, ..._He would have done nothing but torment people. Joffrey didn't know what it meant to be king other than the fact that he got a pretty piece of jewelry to put on his head and that people looked to him for leadership. _What little he could give anyway. He was more of a mind to think that all Joffrey loved about being king was the feeling of superiority he got and the fact that it, in his mind, gave him the license to do whatever he damn well pleased. Tormenting people included.

Another report that had his attention was that of the Brotherhood Without Banners. The outlaw group were led by Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord. They were a rather awkward group to deal with. They had started off as a sanctioned force sent by Lord Eddard Stark to apprehend Ser Gregor Clegane when he had started raiding the Riverlands...now they were something of a political quagmire. A quagmire that the king felt he didn't even want to touch.

How was he supposed to deal with them? The war was nearly over and the fighting in the Riverlands had all but ground to a halt. Ser Brynden had been able to gather knights and men-at-arms to scourge the countryside of brigands and outlaws, most of them conscripts from either side of the armies that had fought in the Riverlands that had deserted to live a life of crime.

Most outlaw groups were small and easy to deal with, but the Brotherhood was something else entirely. They had fought against the Lannisters, no doubt, and that was sure to buy them some sympathizers among the population of the Riverlands in which they operated. But then, they had switched from attacking Lannisters to attacking Starks and Tullys as the war dragged on.

Frankly, he would have been able to give them wholesale pardons since they had been acting underneath a royal decree when they faced off against the Lannisters, but the situation changed drastically when they started attacking Starks and Tullys. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to have them hunted down and killed, Beric Dondarrion in view of a thousand people, either wise the man wouldn't be able to stay dead.

He sighed and wrote of a warrant for their arrests, _What's a couple of minor lords and smallfolk compared to the bigger picture? _No doubt, some would think he was just acting in the interests of the Lannisters...when he honestly wasn't.

Once again, he wished Joffrey hadn't gotten himself killed, but if he hadn't, who knew how long this war would have dragged on for?

His monotonous routine was soon broken by a knock on his door, "Enter." He called out, setting aside the papers he was reading to the side and setting his quill down as well. It gave him the chance to stretch his writing hand. It was stiff and aching and the king didn't exactly like the notion of having to use his left to write. He preferred his right.

His attendant opened the door and stood at attention before giving an inclination of the head that signified a bow, "Your Grace, Lord Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." The king gave a small nod of the head.

Robb soon entered after his introduction, dressed in a grey doublet that had an embroided white direwolf at the left and right breasts, facing each other, both mouths open in a howl. His breeches were of a striped nature, black and white and his leather books were black as well and shined when the light hit them.

It seemed as if Robb had taken a razor to his hair from the last time he had seen him, much like himself. The king rose from his seat and smiled at an old friend, "Robb." He said as he brought out a hand to clasp in a shake.

The Lord of Winterfell took his hand and shook it, "Caspian." He released the hand, before taking a seat for himself. He smirked slightly in Caspian's direction, "Or should I refer to you as 'Your Grace'?"

The king dismissed the issue with a gesture of the hand, "Call me whatever you want. It doesn't really bother me by what people address me as."

Robb Stark laughed lightly, "Flippant and casual as usual I see. Should people be worried about how you will govern the realm?"

"Not to my knowledge, no." In fact, the king thought he had been doing a rather good job in fact, considering the baggage he inherited from his now thankfully deceased brother and his equally deceased father as well, "Every thing has been a smooth ride lately. Nothing to concern myself with too much." All he had been doing is cutting costs, making certain groups could withstand the other without killing each other among various other things.

The auburn haired youth gave a nod of the head, "I take it you'll be marrying soon?"

"Unfortunately." The king replied with a heavy sigh, "My mother has been giving me grief about the entire thing."

That seemed to irk the attention of lord that sat in front of him, "How so?"

The king rested an elbow on his desk before resting a cheek in the palm of that very same hand. He looked away, suddenly finding one of the walls rather interesting all of a sudden, "My mother would much like prefer it for me to marry someone she could control." For example, one of his two Lannister cousins in Myrielle and Cerenna. Though the king was of the mind that his mother didn't think this through in its entirety, _What's to stop those two from challenging her power over them if I were to marry either one of them? _It wasn't like his mother would be able to do anything. Her power rested in being queen. Queen Dowager? Not so much.

If he was more inclined to listen to his mother, maybe so, but he was of the independent mind so to keep whatever power his mother wanted, she would have to find a way to control him through his wife. Princess Arianne and Lady Margaery were women not so easily cowed, or willing to be cowed at the end of the day.

Robb's nose in distaste, "Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace, but your mother is a bitch."

Caspian was more amused rather than insulted, "You are not the only one to think so." The Queen Mother wasn't a particularly loved queen. She was more hated than anything else, much like many of the Lannisters. Although this could be attributed to the fact that Cersei, not once in her reign as queen never did anything that could earn her the love of the commons, _My mother has been in the capital for more than sixteen years now, and Margaery is already more loved than her. _Once upon a time, there probably was a time that Cersei was loved by the commons. She had heard stories of how the crowds had cheered and waved when his mother and father stepped out of Baelor's Great Sept on the day of their wedding, hands held together.

People had been crying out her name and that of his father's, _That was long ago._ They weren't calling out her name any longer. From what he had from Ser Brynden and Ser Jacelyn, when the smallfolk talked of her, words such as "brotherfucker", "slut", "whore" were used in abundance.

Frankly, he should have felt far more anger at how his mother was being thought of, but he really couldn't find it in himself to care. In actual fact, he was more of the mind that his lady mother had brought this upon herself, _I wonder if that makes me a bad son? For not rushing to the defence of the woman who had given birth to me? _He would sleep better if he didn't know...or maybe it would not make a difference.

Caspian moved the meeting away from the more social end towards the business end. His hand moved away from his cheek and pulled out a drawer that was in the same color of wood as the table he used. He pulled out a scroll that was kept together by seal wax of gold colour with a symbol of a rose on it. He passed it over to Robb, "Since Sansa is your sister, I suspect you would want to negotiate the terms yourselves."

Robb looked confused as he took the scroll. He saw the wax seal, which added even more confusion to his face, "The Tyrells? What are you talking about?" He broke the seal and began to read the contents of the scroll. His eyes seem to widen with each word his eyes went over, "Willas Tyrell?"

The king gave a slow nod. Robb's tone had been unidentifiable to him and he really couldn't tell whether he was happy or not, "He's the future lord of Highgarden...is that a bad match?" The heir to a Great House such as the Tyrells for a marriage would have been more than a bad match. It would have been bloody fantastic.

Robb seemed to finish perusing over the scroll. He lowered it to face the king. He shook his head slowly, "No. It's actually rather good." He said, "And the dowry as well..." Robb looked at the king straight in the eyes, "How come it's so low? I would have expected it to be far more than the one I'm seeing right now."

Caspian could only smile. He suspected that his friend was rather impressed or sceptical when it came to the matters of the dowry. The Starks were a great house, yes, but they were not amongst the richest. Not many northern houses were and one would have to look in the direction of the Iron Islands to find a house that had less wealth than the northern houses. Of course, there were some houses south of the neck that had come across bad times, the Westerlings for example, but most would look towards the Iron Islands either way.

"I hope you don't mind, but I sort of negotiated in your stead at first. I offered lands to Garlan Tyrell as part of Sansa's dowry." The king said, "I hope you don't mind me doing that?"

Robb had something of a sly smile on his face, "I suppose you could at least do that to make up for what you've done." He rolled up the scroll and placed it within an inner pocket of his doublet.

It seemed as if Robb was still rather angry at him for bedding his sister, _And a lot of other things I suspect. _Robb had shared with him his thought that Bran had not fallen from the tower as originally thought, but that instead he had been pushed down the tower.

The scary thing was that Caspian didn't need proof to be even convinced. His relationship with his mother and uncle was distant at best, more so with his uncle, but the knowledge of what they had done was rather disconcerting. Then again, his grandfather had destroyed two entire lines of families when they had rebelled against him, so he wondered why he cared more for what they did to Bran than what his grandfather did to the Reynes and Tarbecks?

"Once again, I'm sorry for bedding your sister. How many times will I have to apologize?" This dance was getting rather old, "When it's time for the wedding, Sansa and Willas can even marry here, in King's Landing, if that will make you forgive me." It was unlikely that was going to be the case. The marriage would most likely be held in Highgarden.

Highgarden smelled better at the end of the day.

Robb gave him a smile of intent, "When I think you've apologized enough. Although, I admit, you are making headway of making it up to my House."

The king rolled his eyes, "Since we are still on the subject of marriages, our respective fathers wanted for our two Houses to join together."

"You propose a marriage." Robb cut in, dully.

Caspian gave a crisp nod of the head, "My firstborn for your firstborn."

"And what if our firstborns are of the same sex?"

"Then we'll hold it off until we both have a girl or a boy to marry the other."

Robb started nodding his head slowly, a hand brought up to his chin to rub at the scarlet hairs that were forming a bead around his jaw and mouth, "Why not just Tommen and Arya? It can both save us a lot of time and trouble."

Caspian just gave Robb a dull look, "Arya would eat up Tommen whole and spit out the bones not long after. I wouldn't want that on my baby brother."

Robb gave him a narrow eyed look, "What are you trying to say about _my _baby sister?"

The king returned the look, "What I'm saying is that Arya is very deserving of the sigil that your House takes pride in."

"Are you calling her a wolf?"

"That's exactly what I'm calling her."

The two continued their stare off before laughing. Frankly, the king knew that the real issue with such a marriage wasn't that Arya would be too much for Tommen to handle, like how his Great-Aunt Genna was far too much for Emmon Frey to handle. It was simply because they both knew that Tommen was not Baratheon but instead Waters, _Or is it Hill? _Frankly, the entire thing was too tedious to think about.

Caspian could have easily made the match, and if the truth later came to light, it would bring embarrassment for both their Houses and dishonour as well. Now Caspian didn't particularly care about the meal called honour, but up north...well, they cared for it more.

And even if it didn't come out, the whispers would follow Tommen for the rest of his life and it may even continue to follow on through his children. At the end of the day, it was a far safer bet to simply make a contract marriage for one of his own children to one of Robb's.

"Very well, my first girl or boy, for your first boy or girl." Robb eventually said, after reigning in his laughter. He wiped away what seemed like a stray tear, "You'll have to get married soon enough for your end of the deal."

The king smiled at his friend, himself having controlled his laughter, "I realise. I'm sure you and your lady wife are busy every single chance you get to bring another Stark into the world." Frankly, the Starks probably needed to bring another Stark into the world. The closest cousins that the king could think of for Robb were the Karstarks. And after the business with Rickard Karstark, well...

A frown came across Robb's face. Caspian for a moment thought that it was because of what he had said about bringing more Starks into the world. Now that he thought about it, it was rather in bad taste. Apparently, he shouldn't have worried, "Jeyne is worried about her family." Robb finally said.

The king blinked in surprise, "I'm sorry what?"

"The Westerlings are bannermen to the Lannisters." Robb said, "Jeyne thinks that your grandsire will punish her family for joining with me during the war."

"Oh," The king let out in dumb reproach. He shook himself out of it, "I'll have a word with my grandfather. Have no worries about that. I'll see what I can do." He was supposed to have a meeting with his grandfather later on in the day anyway. He smiled at Robb, "Tell Jeyne that she has nothing to worry about." That was more of an empty promise that Caspian didn't want to admit. He didn't really know whether he would be able to bring in his grandfather or not from bringing some kind of retribution to the Westerlings.

Robb had a clear look of thanks on his face. His nod showed as well, "Thank you."

"No thanks are needed." Caspian replied with a smile on his own face, "It's what friends are for."

Robb soon left not longer afterwards, no doubt to find the Tyrell matriarch to iron out the details of his sister's marriage to her grandson. As a parting gift, he had left Robb with the warning that he should be careful of what he said in the presence of the Queen of Thorns, even if they were going to be related to each other in the future.

It was three or so hours after noon that one of the clerks brought in more reports to read. It was the same old, same old but some of the reports didn't seat well with him. Especially with the reports that the city was finding itself seeing a large increase in refugees that called themselves 'sparrows'. At first they had been small in number, but over the past months, more and more of them had been flying to King's Landing and making the city their nest.

King's Landing had enough food to feed them for sure, and thanks to the Tyrells, he had been able to set up feeding houses for the refugees. What worried him was the knowledge that these sparrows seemed more along the lines of religious fanatics. The obvious clues being that they seemed to congregate around Baelor's Great Sept and the other being that they wore a Seven pointed star upon the breasts of their clothing.

_I'll need to find out exactly what these 'sparrows' want when I have the time. _He couldn't have them mull around the city and especially around a monument such as the Great Sept. The king wondered if the sparrows had a representative among them, someone they thought of a leader. He would have Varys find out.

He put that report to the side for now and made a note to have a talk with Varys. The sparrows would soon need to be dispersed, if not for the reason for sheer public order, but for economical reasons too. Winter will soon be upon them if the Citadel said to be true. The farms and fields would need all the help they could get to sow the fields and harvest the food.

His mind wandered back to the meeting he had with Robb, and it lingered on the marriage contract they had thought of between them, _I need a heir. _Tommen was his heir, but once again, there were talks of his rumored parentage, which was true, this he knew, so in a way, Tommen wasn't his heir, to those that knew that his younger brother was in fact bastard born. With that knowledge in mind, his heir by blood was his uncle, Stannis Baratheon, _I can't have that. No chance._

His uncle was a good man. He was. Incorruptible and just, but he didn't have the ability to be king. He would alienate his lords and people and more than likely end up being deposed more than anything else.

Stannis Baratheon just simply did not know how to be malleable to suit the needs of the realm.

The king called for his attendant, "Your Grace?" The man said as he rose from his bow.

"Please summon Lady Margaery for an audience with me, if you could."

The attendant bowed once more, "As His Grace wishes." With his part done, he left and closed the door behind him.

Caspian didn't have to wait long before the not so Maid of Highgarden was soon ushered into his office. Lady Margaery looked all kinds of fair. She was dressed in a sleeveless leaf green bodice that was accentuated with golden rose embroidery and her skirt was of a pale green color with dark green accents.

She had a smile on her face before she executed her curtsey perfectly, "Your Grace." She said, in greeting.

"Lady Margaery." The king returned in courtesy. He motioned her towards one of the seats in front of his desk, "Please take a seat."

She smiled at him once more, "Your Grace is too kind."

The king had a smile on his face, _Too kind..._ He was rather sure what he did was just plain courtesy. He wondered how to start the conversation and decided to fall back to the old age basic of asking how her day was, "I hope I didn't interrupt anything with this impromptu summoning."

She shook her head. Her loose hair swayed to the side with each shake she did, "No. None at all. It is in your right as king to call for anyone and they to answer."

Well, that was true he supposed, but he hoped that wasn't the case, _Lady Olenna trained her well I see. _She had ingratiated herself well with him. Caspian was of the mind that given the chance, if he ever came to have a low point in his life, she would pick up the pieces, all the while manipulating him for her own ends whilst he was picking up those said pieces, "You look very lovely today, my lady."

"Your Grace is too kind." She said, "You look as dashing as ever." Her eyes were fixated on his face or head, the king didn't know which, "You dyed your hair?"

Caspian ran a hand through his now shorter hair that he had dyed black. He gave her a nod, "White-greyish hair seemed a bit ridiculous if you ask me." And he always preferred having black hair. He didn't know why, he supposed the black hair was something of a sense of identity with him, _Well, I did go through that moment in time when I wanted blonde and green eyes. _He would be lying if he said that he had stopped wishing that he had been born with those particular traits. He had spent quite a number of years were he had seen many a blonde haired and green eyed people when he was at Casterly Rock, "It seems I share an opinion with your grandmother when it came to the ridiculousness of the hair."

Lady Margaery laughed. Her laugh was melodious and like quite a number of bells have been set of to chime at once. He wondered who had the prettier laugh, his mother or her, "She told you about the time it was arranged for her to marry Prince Daeron Targaryen, didn't she?"

The king had a small smile on his face as he recalled the story. He had to admit, now that he thought about it, it was rather amusing, "That she did. Seems we are of the same mind." He gave her a shrug, "White is all good, but I think I look far more intimidating with black hair. Suits the image of myself that I have of tall, dark and dangerous."

Lady Margaery quirked a delicate eyebrow up her head, "Shouldn't it be tall, dark and handsome?" She asked, her voice and expression all innocent.

The king had a thoughtful expression on her face, "Well, there is that. But I much prefer tall, dark and dangerous. Makes me more intimidating."

"About as intimidating as a puppy, I think."

The king blinked, before chuckling, "My lady has a sharp tongue, I see."

"My grandmother has a sharper tongue than me." Margaery Tyrell all but cooed.

"I would expect anyone with the epithet of Queen of Thorns to be nothing less than sharp in some manner." He shifted in his seat, getting himself more comfortable, "Speaking of Lady Olenna, I'm sure by now you have heard of our impending..."

"...Nuptials?" Although she tried to hide It, and hide it well she did behind a voice and tone of coolness, the king could sense the eagerness and glee in her voice at the mention of the word. She gave a small nod, "My grandmother did indeed tell me so."

No doubt she wanted to press the subject, but she wanted to keep an air of aloofness about her, _She doesn't want to seem all too eager about the notion of her being crowned. "_Our engagement will be announced at my tourney for the entire kingdom to know. The wedding will most likely follow some time afterwards. I suppose you should get a head start on planning it."

Her eyes had a certain gleam to them, "Will the Queen Mother also be included in the process?"

_Don't let her hear you say that. _He shrugged, "If she wants too. Since it is my word, she will probably also want to be included in the process." Just so that their was a Lannister voice in the entire planning process. Caspian was going to make sure that he stayed well far away from that entire thing as possible, "The Crown will take the burden of the expenses of course."

"No."

Her word stunned him. He looked at her with a perplexed expression, "No?"

She nodded, her hair rubbing against the exposed shoulders of her bodice, "No. House Tyrell will also share the burden of the wedding expenses. It will not be said that House Tyrell refused to play it's part. I'm sure I'll be able to convince father to pay for half the expenses."

Well, the king had certainly not been expecting that, but he was more than willing to grab onto any bone that was thrown in his direction. Especially if it included saving a large amount of expenses on the Crown's part, "Me and you are going to get along swimmingly. I can see it now." He motioned towards the side were a couple of goblets and a jug of wine sat, "Care for a drink?"

She shook her head, "No thank you. I'm fine."

Caspian nodded, "Since we are still on the matter of the wedding, I suppose it's better for the both of us if we came to an understanding?"

"Understanding?" She asked, once more, a delicate eyebrow was raised. And for a second there, he thought he saw some tenseness in her posture.

Caspian gave her a disarming smile, "It's nothing to be worried about. It's just some minor things that will make it easier for the both of us."

"Such as?"

"Well, an arranged marriage is an arranged marriage. I don't expect you to magically fall in love with me and you really, _really _shouldn't expect that from me. Even if we are married for a hundred years, during that time, I doubt I'll even grow to love you." He gave a shrug of the shoulders, "I have my issues that make it rather impossible for me to ever suspect that the particular love between two people will ever blossom inside me."

Lady Margaery looked at him with an inquisitive look about her, "So what do you suggest?"

"Our marriage is purely on the grounds of politics." As every marriage was or will be, "If you so wish, you can take a lover or lovers if you wish, although you'll have to be discrete about it." Adultery on his part was more or less to be expected, but was it to come from his queen? Not so much.

She had a wry smile on her lips, "We'll be sharing separate beds?" She asked, "And what of your own heir or heirs?"

"Not really. I suppose we'll have to come to an agreement of how many times a month or week we'll share each others beds." Most they would have to act the part of two children in love in their first year of marriage, "Part of my duty as king and yours as queen would have to be giving the realm little princes and princesses. Although you should know, if you do try and cuckold me, I will know." He finished with something of a subtle tone of hardness in his voice. If the Baratheon seed was truly strong as Lord Jon thought it was, well, that would make it rather easy to notice when he was being played for a cuckold.

"I would never." Lady Margaery said. She pursed her lips in thought, "I suppose the same conditions will be applied to you?"

He gave her something of a crooked smile, "If you are talking about mistresses, I suppose so. If I could, I would never marry, but well, it's expected of me, even more so now due to me being king." He sighed as he scratched the back of his head, "I won't be Aegon the Unworthy if that's what you are worried about. You will still be my queen and if I were to have mistresses, they would be safe out of sight and out of mind and I would never, ever look at any of your lady companions."

"I have to say, Your Grace, this is rather the strangest marriage you are proposing."

Caspian raised an eyebrow. Was it such a strange thing? "Maybe it is, but at the same time, I'm thinking of trying to give you a happy marriage all the while. Some marriages like ours end in happiness but others? Not so much. In the case our turns up to be the latter, at least I suspect you will be able to find love from someone else."

Margaery Tyrell looked at him. Not just look at him, but really _look_ at him, as if she was searching for something. He did not back down from her gaze, "Do you find yourself incapable of feeling an emotion such as love?" She asked, her gaze still on him.

"I'm not incapable of it, I'm sure." He loved his younger siblings, Tommen and Myrcella and Edric. He was sure he would also love his children whether they be his trueborn with Margaery or his natural born with Sansa, _I will have to make some time to go see him. _Maybe he could do what Lord Eddard did and raise him alongside his trueborn children? He already knew what he was going to do with his soon to be natural born son, "I know what love Is. I just have been jaded by the notion of marriage to think that I'll be able to feel it in such a manner towards my marriage partner." He could thank his mother and father for that. If there was ever a dysfunctional marriage and family to worse than his to have ever existed, he wasn't aware of it.

Lady Margaery's gaze eventually relented, "So you will marry me, but you doubt you will ever grow to love me?" He answered her with a silent nod. She took that in her stride, "But you will grow to love your children when they are born?" She asked once more.

He gave her a look, "I thought that would be a simple and obvious answer."

Lady Margaery surprised him by rising from her seat. She made her way round the desk to his side. She leant forward and gave him a long kiss on the lips. She smelled like the rose flowers of the Reach. She leant back with a smile on her lips, "Maybe when I have given you enough children, you will grow to love me as well. Somewhere along the lines anyway."

The king gave her a look, "Why are you so keen on being loved?" He would have expected more from the protégé of Lady Olenna Tyrell.

She took his right hand into her own before guiding it to the cleft of her breasts, where he could feel her heart beat. Lady Margaery's golden eyes had a certain gleam about them as she gave him a fond smile, "I'm well aware of what my role is in our world. I have known that for a long time, but it is every woman's dream to be loved. Even I dream of being loved."

"From me?" The king asked with scepticism noticeable in his voice, "Well good luck with that. Really." He had far too many issues to think he was capable of such a thing.

Lady Margaery pulled him gently to his feet. He could have resisted her pull and stubbornly remain seated, but he allowed her to do so, _Might as well start to learn how to co-operate with each other. "_Well, I admit, I do like a challenge every now and then." Lady Margaery said, looking up at him. Standing, he was more than a head taller than her. She guided his hand to the laces of her bodice, "We are to be married soon enough, I suppose there is no harm in trying to give you an heir some moons early." She told him, a coy smile on her face.

Caspian quirked an eyebrow, "How exactly did you get people to start calling you the Maid of Highgarden?" She was anything but a maid. That he had learned when she and Arianne shared his bed that all so wonderful night some time ago.

She gave him a shrug as her arms were wrapped around his waist. The king's hands had already undone the laces of her bodice and it had fallen to the ground in a puddle around her. She wasn't wearing a brassiere underneath her bodice, "Act in a certain manner and people will start thinking that the manner you act as, is how you really are." Lady Margaery said, her hands having removed themselves from his waist and gone down to the laces of his breeches.

She gave a startled squeak when she found herself lifted from the ground by the waist to be seated on the large ornamental desk that the king did his work on, "I'm starting to think you are more of a vixen than a maid." Caspian all but growled. He moved a hand to lift up the skirts of her gown. Before anything could continue, the sound of his door opening attracted his attention. He found himself rather annoyed, "No-one knocks. Why does nobody _ever _knock?"

Lady Margaery took that moment to be smart, "I knocked."

The king ignored the sally. He looked in the direction of the door and found himself looking at his mother who stood at the door with a dumbfounded expression as she stood staring at the back of his future wife who he was just about to do the deed with. He should have known, "Mother," Lady Margaery seemed to hide her face into the contour of his neck. He thought he felt something like that of a smile on her lips, "This is well, unexpected. As you can see, you caught me at a rather inopportune time."

The attendant was quick to close the door behind his mother, his visage a sea of calm. Not that it wasn't expected, this was the very same attendant that had worked for his father. In fact, Caspian was of the mind that every attendant in his employment had come across his father in one state or another with a woman.

The Queen Mother seemed to get her wits back about her, "I can see." She said, her voice located somewhere in between warmth and ice. Warmth directed at him, he suspected and the ice directed at the young lady in his arms, "Really Caspian? Your royal office? I thought you said you weren't your father."

"I'm not..." That was a lie. A damnable lie but it wasn't like he was going to tell his mother that was he? "It's just, I suppose there is a certain thrill about all this." He didn't know how to feel about the fact that his member was harder than it had been when his mother walked in on them. Lady Margaery seemed to have noticed if the slight movement he felt on his skin around his neck was anything. That and the fact that she was stroking him with her small hands. He wanted to tell her to stop it, but he really couldn't find it within him.

His mother had a frown of distaste on her face, "Is your..." She struggled for words. Caspian suspected the first word on his mother's lips was 'whore' or something of a similar like, "...Lady friend ever going to introduce herself?"

"She's rather shy you see." That and the fact that if she was to move, his cock would be out for all the world to see.

Lady Margaery seemed not to like what he had to say about her assumed shyness. She turned her head slightly to face the Queen Mother, "Your Grace." She greeted with a smile.

"Lady Margaery..." Cersei's voice had a certain tightness to it that was also slightly visible on her face. Her eyes were hard, "I have to say, your behaviour has been unbecoming of a lady ever since you arrived here. I suppose instead of 'Maid of Highgarden', it should be 'Whore of Highgarden'."

Caspian could feel Lady Margaery's body tense at the words. Her reaction seemed to make the king's mother brighten up judging by the smile that crept across her lips. Margaery Tyrell had a tight smile on her face, "Is it so wrong of me to come to know of my betrothed in such an intimate manner?"

That seemed to knock the smile of the king's mother's face, "Betrothed?" She repeated, shock evident in her voice. Her green eyes immediately went from Margaery towards Caspian himself. The king wished that he could find himself a nice hole to hide in whilst all this blew over, "What is she talking about Caspian?"

The king sighed as he gave his mother a sigh, "Just as she says." He removed Lady Margery's hands away from his member and began to lace up his breeches, "I am betrothed to Lady Margaery." His mother was shocked into stunned silence. The king took that time to help Lady Margaery dress herself by picking up her displaced bodice.

Lady Margaery made sure that her laces were done properly before leaving, but not before planting a not so chaste kiss upon the king's lips. Caspian supposed it was just to add fuel to the fire that already burning within his mother. When she passed the queen, she had something of a smile on her face.

The sound of the door closing was the signal his mother needed to knock herself out of her stupor. She marched with intent towards his desk as the king retook his seat, "Caspian, explain yourself?"

_No, I don't have to explain anything actually. _His mother didn't have that power over him, but he decided doing so would save him a lot of grief over the coming months, "I've chosen Lady Margaery to be my wife and queen." _And don't you just hate that mother?_

"You chose a harlot to be your queen?" His mother sounded stunned, "I thought you were smarter than that."

His words stirred an anger in him. His jaw clenched as he controlled his anger, "And who would you have me marry? Cerenna? Or maybe, Myrielle?" He asked. He didn't give her time to answer, "Cerenna and Myrielle give me something I already have, the westerlands through you. Much of the riverlands fields were ravaged during the war and winter is coming, we need the Reach and it's fertile fields more than ever. By binding the Reach to use, it also stops the Targaryen from across the sea putting us in the same position that Renly did when the Reach declared for him."

His mother's lips were tight that for a second, he worried they would blue, "And here I thought you were going to choose that Dornish girl."

"I like Arianne, but choosing her would have been incredibly stupid on my part. The Dornish have no love for us and I happen to be the product of two families that are not very well thought of in Dorne." His anger was subsiding now, but the sight of his mother seemed to bring some kind of resentment more so than it did before, "If I had married Arianne, whenever the Targaryen girl decided to come to Westeros, she would more than likely find herself Dornish allies in well placed positions at court that would aid her in her quest to kick me of the Iron Throne. I just merely mused with the idea, because, well, it's amusing." That and Arianne. He wondered how Arianne she would react to this, _She's a big girl. A rejection won't matter to her. _

The Queen Mother still didn't seem pleased with his choice, "But did you have to choose that...that..." She controlled herself with a deep breath of air, "Are you not worried that she will be unfaithful to you? You saw how shamefully she acted before."

_Why mother, if I didn't know any better, it's as if you are worried about me being horned. _He wondered how she would react if he told her about the conditions that he and Margaery had talked about. He realised that she never gave him a confirmation or not about the arrangements, "Don't worry about it mother. If Margaery tries to cuckold me, I'll know." He watched her reaction intently when he said his words. Whatever he had been expecting to see, he didn't come to see it. Instead he shrugged, "And anyway, Margaery is easy enough to understand. She wants to be queen. She _is _going to be queen, but she wouldn't jeopardise her position by being wanton or bedding another man. You forget nothing stays a secret for long in this place."

Caspian found himself amused by the fact that his mother had more of a reaction when someone said 'queen' and another name that was not hers. It seemed as if his mother wanted to be the only queen in the entirety of Westeros, _If she could, she would have had me stay a bachelor until her dying days. Just so she could be _the _queen._ It seemed Cersei Baratheon did not take kindly to competition when it came to her position.

"Caspian, sweetling," She cooed, her voice soft and motherly, "I may look like to be making a deep fuss over this, but that is only because I care for your well being and happiness." And she didn't see that well being and happiness coming from him marrying Margaery Tyrell.

"I can take care of myself mother. I am nearly a man grown." And to put a final nail in the coffin about this entire conversation he added, "And anyway, I already talked about this with grandfather. He approves. Even if I had wanted to marry Arianne, grandfather would have made sure that I married Margaery instead. The Tyrells are the closest in power to the Baratheons and Lannisters. They need to be brought into the royal fold." And maybe sometime in the future, the Starks and Arryns and Tullys could also be brought into that fold, _Maybe even the Martells sometime._ When the Targaryen threat is over of course.

But that was nothing more than the future. Right now, all he cared for was the present, and he would take that by taking one day at a time.

* * *

**AN: Got to admit, Caspian-centric chapters come easier to me, but definitely going to show other POVs in the future. I don't really know why to be honest, maybe it's because I connect more with my original character? Heh, who knows.**

**TheForeverKing**


	24. Chapter 24

_Dislcaimer: I don't own a GoT/ASOIAF. _

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Margaery

When day-light had come, the sky was full of sombre grey clouds, there sheer density and deepness of colour nearly robbing the day of any and all signs of light. The clouds cast a single great shadow over the ground, every now and then, light made silver by the clouds piercing through on occasion. The darkness was not the only thing the clouds brought with them. They arrived with winds that bit at the skin and made skirts and loose clothing go aflutter. They brought light rain that that would sometimes threaten making a hash of the impending days festivities.

It was a relief when by the time it neared noon, when the sky had nearly traversed to the half way point from east to west that the clouds had decided to disappear to the easterly horizon, allowing the sun to shine golden light radiantly down on the country side and giving people the full breath taking view of a blue summer sky.

A good thing as well, winter was soon to be coming. Who knew how many blue summer skies were left for the people to enjoy before nothing but overcast grey and snow was to be their daily sight?

Margaery had seen many tourney grounds in her life, after all, the Reach was the heart of chivalry within the Seven Kingdoms. There wasn't a moon that went by without some kind of tourney being held by a reach lord somewhere, but she was willing to admit that the king's tourney was certainly grander than any of the tourney's she went to herself, of course, that was not including the tourney's held at Highgarden.

The tourneys at Highgarden were something spectacular indeed, a sight one had to see at least once in their life.

Vast and seemingly going on to no end, the tourney grounds were of immense size. As far as she could see, tents of all colours and sizes dotted the massive clearing that had been set aside for the king's name day tourney.

Margaery had to concede that she had never come to see so much different coloured tents of varying shapes and sizes in one place, even in Highgarden whenever a tourney was hosted. Each tent was emblazoned with a sigil to show which house the competing knight belonged. Margaery could easily spot some of the emblems from competing knights that had come from the Reach.

She could see the green and red apples of both the House Fossoway branches, the double headed, green and white eagle of House Graves, the gold flagon of House Redding, the grey tower of House Hightower among other Houses of the Reach. Margaery would admit that she was rather surprised by the large array of Houses from the Reach that had come to take part in the king's tourney, considering that some few moons past, the Reach was an enemy of the Crown.

She could even see a giant pavillion tent of Tyrell green and gold, emblazoned with both a sigil of two gold roses and another of three gold roses as well. It seemed as if both her brothers were to be taking part in the tournament, even Garlan who never had seemed to take interest in gaining fame or glory as Loras was want to do whenever it came to tournaments.

Margaery wondered if her grandmother had anything to do with Garlan participating. He had always seemed loathe to actually take part in such a thing as a tourney whenever given the chance.

Still though, she could not help but think of Garlan participating in the tourney as good news. The Tyrells, her family, had always had something of a strenuous hold when it came to the Reach. Aegon the Conqueror had bestowed Highgarden and the Reach to them when Harlen Tyrell had bent the knee to the conqueror when he arrived at Highgarden upon Balerion the Black Dread.

Despite it being near three hundred years back, some Houses, with stronger claims to Highgarden than the Tyrells themselves, still resented at the fact that they had to serve underneath '_upjumped stewards'. _In past living memory, House Tyrell had been at the end of losing two wars, Robert's Rebellion and the War of the Four Kings, no doubt these losses will ring to the ears of some and dissident voices will speak.

Garlan excelling in the tourney would be sure to prove that House Tyrell was and still _is _a strong House.

She soon came upon the king, in conversation with his younger siblings, "I think I would know of the sigils of the Houses sworn underneath me." King Caspian remarked with a tone that was playful in how much he felt offended by the question that had been directed at him. Standing nearby the group of three royals were three Kingsguard.

Margaery was quick to recognise the Kingsguard. The young Ser Dantis Jast with his pools of amber, although young wasn't exactly a word to describe them due to the fact that all of them could be considered young. The comely but rough Ser Guyard Morrigen and the gallant Ser Balon Swann. The three knights all stood at a safe distance from the three, their eyes roaming their surroundings in search of threats to their liege and king.

Ser Dantis' amber eyes were the first to spot her as she made her way towards the king atop her palfrey horse at a slow trot, "Shall we test that then, Your Grace?" Princess Myrcella asked. The princess was as pretty as the faeries of legend. Her golden ringlets fell to her shoulder, resting easily atop them and she wore a gown that suited her well. Her sleeves were loose, adorned with flowery patterns in gold.

Despite her youth, Margaery could almost feel jealous of the younger girl's beauty. It was rather silly as well, the princess was not yet a woman grown, she liked to think.

The princess had certainly piqued the interest of the king, judging by the slight raising of the eyebrows that she saw rise up the king's brow, "What do you have in mind then?" The king asked, trying to play it cool.

"A simple game, nothing more," The princess replied courteously. Her voice was as soft as Myrish lace and sweet as golden honey, "I shall point at a sigil, describe it if need be, all you have to do is tell me of the House."

The king snorted, "That's all? You are making this far too easy for me."

Plump Prince Tommen spoke up, rather excitedly, "Can I play as well? I know sigils of Houses as well!" On a second look, the plump prince did not look so plump unlike the last time Margaery had seen him. It seemed as if he had lost some of his plumpness in the past few moons.

"Of course you can Tommen," Princess Myrcella said, before clapping her hands together excitedly, in the manner one would when they had come up with an idea of note, "We shall make a game of it, between the two of you."

The king took a moment to take a glance at Tommen before smiling sly, "Not much of game then if Tommen is to be my opponent." He laughed at the angry pout that was sent in his direction by the young prince.

"I'll win." The young prince said, voice full of determination and resolution, "And then...and then..." He struggled to finish his declaration, eyes looking around for words or anything that would allow him to finish what he was about to say.

The king remained quiet for a moment, waiting patiently for his brother to finish his speaking before deciding to prompt him, "And then what?"

The prompting must have worked as Prince Tommen was quick to look back at his older brother, face firm and set, "You'll have to outlaw beets!"

The king was at loss for words for a moment, him and Princess Myrcella before both burst into a fit of laughter and giggles, "Don't be silly Tommen. Caspian can't outlaw beets. What would people eat then?" The princess asked.

The prince crossed his arms, "Something other than beets."

"I'll think about it." The king said before waving his younger siblings away, "We shall have to play this game another time unfortunately. My guest has arrived." He finished as he waved in the general direction of where Margaery had come to a halt.

Prince Tommen seemed to want to say something but was shushed by his older sister. She seemed to understand and curtsied in greeting her, "Lady Margaery. It's a pleasure to see you today." Princess Myrcella had to prompt her younger brother to greet her as well. The young prince's greeting was awkward and quiet, but she took it in stride.

Atop her palfrey, she could not return the curtsey, but she could bow her head, "And it is good to see you as well, princess. I hope the tournament today is to your enjoyment."

"For you as well, my lady." Princess Myrcella took little prince Tommen's small hand into her own before leading him away, "Come now Tommen, let's go find mother." The young prince followed his older sister begrudgingly and as ever, two of the Kingsguard in their white cloaks trailed after the two royals.

The king soon made his way towards to her side and took hold of the horse from the front one of its reins and offered her a hand, "My lady?"

Margaery cast him a soft smile as she accepted the hand, "Thank you." She said as the king helped her dismount the palfrey that she had sat atop. From somewhere, a groom appeared and led the palfrey away, quickly disappearing into the midday crowds of lords, ladies and attending knights.

Margaery caught some of those very lords and ladies casting eyes in her direction, no doubt the minds belonging to those eyes quick in deciphering the meaning behind her presence with the king, _I suppose I shall be making even more new friends and acquaintances soon enough. _The Maid of Highgarden mused to herself. This seemed like it was going to be a regular occurrence, so she might as well learn to get used to it.

King's Landing's court was far more perilous and different than that to Highgarden's very own court. She already had a plan and had already been engaging in the intrigue of the king's court along with her grandmother. She had come to learn things of importance through the vine or through people she had befriended.

It was plain enough for Margaery to know that her family will have to contend with the Lannisters for dominion and the king's ear. Lord Tywin was the most dangerous of the Lannisters, a prudent, cold and ruthless pragmatic, he would be someone she would have to tread carefully with. The king himself seemed to keep himself out of any sort of intrigue with a skill that showed maybe he was either politically incapable or a deft player of the game of merely keeping himself out of things that did not concern him or the realm. Perhaps that was an angle she could work with.

The most dangerous was not Lord Tywin or the king, or the king's uncle, the Imp, Lord Tyrion, but the queen herself, Lady Cersei.

They had yet to interact personally, but Margaery knew that the queen did not like her at all. Not one bit. And she would most likely do anything to keep a firm hold on the power she had as queen and if that wasn't possible, have a younger queen that she could control. That was the only thing that she could think of that could explain the appearance and soon disappearance of the two Lannister girls that had come to King's Landing and soon left not long ago.

"It's a beautiful day isn't it?" Said the king all of a sudden. The question was quick enough to knock the young lady out of her reverie.

"Yes it is." She agreed with the king's observation. It was a beautiful day indeed, as of now unlike the morn just a few short hours ago. The sun was radiant and she could feel its golden rays warming her bare skin at the shoulders of her gown, "I had thought it was going to rain or be sombre grey for the day. It seemed the gods favour you for such a sudden turn around in the weather."

The king laughed quietly beside her, "As you say. I like to think it was just mere luck." They were making their way towards the tourney grounds, where the lists for the jousting had been grounded and where the arena for the melee and archery competition had been prepared.

A delicate eyebrow raised up Margaery's forehead, "Not the gods?"

"I'm not a very pious man." The king admitted easily enough, as if he was merely talking about the weather, in which a way, they were talking about the weather, Lady Margaery was quick to note with some bemusement to herself, "I like to think that the gods have better things to do than worry about the mundane affairs of mere mortals like us."

The laugh came easily to her, "What would your septa think?"

"Not much I suspect. Lord Tywin declared I didn't need the teaching of a septa when I became a ward of his during my fostering. Said I had already learned there is to know about the faith and that my time was better suited for other activities."

She couldn't find herself surprised. From what she had heard about the man and of the things she knew he had done, Lady Margaery had the slight inclination that Lord Tywin didn't at all care for any divine judgement on his person. She had met him only a few times, and in passing as well, but his eyes they were as cold and hard and relentless as a might glacier. May haps their was truth in the stories of him being able to drive men out of rooms just by his stare alone, _Lord Tywin and grandmother would get along famously. _That she was sure off.

"He must have been a hard teacher." Said the Lady Margaery. She was walking arm in arm with her future husband and it seemed as if conversation came easy to him today. Most times they had been together, they did not converse with...words, _The lust that comes with youth. _An enjoyable youth. The king was rather proficient in his love-making.

"Four days of the week with him in his office, learning how to administer to an entire province. Every now and then, travelling to the various banners and checking their statuses and functioning." The king sighed. A sigh of mirth more than anything else, "It was tedious work."

"Now you have to administer to seven kingdoms and two provinces. Even more tedious I suspect." Jested the Lady Margaery.

He laughed just as she had hoped he would. She noted that his laugh was far more different than that of his unle. Renly's laugh was as loud as a thunder clap, loud and booming. The king's laugh was more subdued and quiet, like the rumbling of thunder in the distance. She preferred his laugh compared to that of Renly's.

It had something of a more 'inside' voice to it.

"Please don't remind me. A good thing that I have able people working underneath me to pass of the work to." He soon changed the subject to that of the tourney, "I hear your brothers are taking part in the tourney, is that true?" She was sure that the king already knew, but she appreaciated the gesture.

"Tis true, Your Grace." She confirmed. They were nearing the lists and she could already hear the distant clamour of thousands of voices as they went to their seats. No doubt the jousting was soon going to be starting, "Garlan and Loras."

A light of remembrance came to the king's eye. The eye that was as deep as the blue ocean, "Garlan the Gallant. A bit pretentious is it not?"

She giggled lightly into her hand, "He did not name himself that. It was all Willas' doing, Your Grace."

"There's a story behind that, I suspect."

She smiled up at him. Once again, she couldn't help but note how tall he was. Taller than all of her brothers. She remembered rather hazily asking him once of how tall he was. She had guessed that he was at least over six foot tall. Her guess had been accurate, he was six foot one to be more accurate, the same height as his father.

"There is," She took a moment to take in a breath. It was a short story, but she did not want to stop mid-day to draw in air, "Garlan was prone to be plump when he was just a boy. Seeing this, Willas had dubbed him the Gallant, lest he be dubbed something else such as, well, the Plump." She finished with a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

"Quick thinking by Willas there," Said the king, "It seems I made a good choice then in choosing your brother. A quick mind is always something good to have."

She cast a glance in his direction in curiosity. Margaery knew of her oldest brother's summoning to King's Landing, everyone in her family knew. The problem was, nobody knew _why. _Willas had arrived in the capital not too long ago with Garlan in toll. They had both been greeted by the king and Willas had been told that they would need to speak soon, but that had been days past. It seemed as if the king had a different notion as to what 'soon' meant. It was all rather disconcerting, "A good choice?" She asked, hoping that the king's candour for the day will continue to reveal whatever secret he was hiding.

She knew that her question would not be answered by the easy smile that came to the king's face. Easy smiles seemed to come easily to the dark haired king, "All in good time my lady. Look, it seems we have arrived."

Indeed they had arrived at the ground that had been set up for the jousting tourney. A chamberlain had awaited for them at the entrance for them before leading them to their seats. Margaery had been surprised at the notion of 'their' seats. She had expected that they would soon part way when they had reached the ground but it didn't seem that was the intention of the young king.

_Does he wish to parade me in front of the people?_ Well, that was a good a way as any to announce to the kingdom that she was to be their future queen. She was sure that talk of her becoming queen had already circulated throughout the city, mayhap even further than the city walls themselves. The castle servants would have seen and heard many a things and those things could be told to family and friends and tongues would begin to wag.

The royal pavilion were the king and his family sat was located opposite the stands for the common people. Both structures were massive behemoths of solid wooden beams, oak Lady Margaery dared to guess as to the type of wood. It had the gold like colour that was common in oak. The wooden beams did not even deign to budge underneath the weight of all the people that walked and sat atop them. It was as if they were made of stone, unbending and unbreakable.

The lords and ladies bowed and greeted the king at his passing and on the opposite side, the smallfolk had seen the king and had begun to cheer loudly. They clapped their hands in a raucous torrent. They hooted and cheered and chanted his name, "_King Caspian!" _They all shouted in surprising synchrony.

The chairs that had been fashioned for the highborn of Westeros were intricate and befitting for the titles and ranks of the men and women who had come to watch the tourney. Made of carefully carved oak, polished to a gleam as well as having padded leather for comfort on the seating itself.

Due to the proximity, all of the, if not, most of every one of the crownland lords and ladies were in attendance. It was perhaps a close tie between the stormlands and the Reach when it came to the number of highborn that had come for the king's tourney, no doubt due to the fact that for a short time, the king had been the liege lord to them and had fought alongside them as well. It was easy enough to guess as to why so many from the Reach were in attendance. From personal experience, she knew that westermen were slowly increasing in number ever since Lord Tywin arrived in the capital. A small amount of northmen had also arrived with the young lord, Robb Stark when he made his way to the capital. She had recognised the mermen of House Manderly, the closed gauntlet of House Glover, the double-headed axe of House Cerwyn among others. She was rather surprised to see quite a few valemen as well. She wondered if the Lady Lysa Arryn was in attendance as well. Representing Dorne was only Prince Doran and Princess Arianne.

As they rose up the red carpeted stairs embroidered with gold patterns towards the royal seating, she was able to catch a glimpse of her father. He had something of a pleased smile on his face which grew wider when she walked past him, arms linked with that of the king. It wasn't at all difficult to guess as to why the Lord of Highgarden seemed rather pleased with himself.

It was all but confirmed that his daughter was going to be a queen and House Tyrell would finally get its wish for royal blood, _As soon as I birth an heir for the king, of course. _With how close she and king were, she doubted it wouldn't be long.

They eventually reached their seating and she had to stop herself from smiling at the queen at flicker of emotion that had flashed across her features when she had finally caught sight at the woman that had been walking beside her son, arms linked. Lord Tywin regarded them with a cool look and gave a barely noticeable nod towards his grandson which the king returned, _How did he even catch that? _Lady Margaery had been barely able to see the movement itself and she had been looking at directly at the Old Lion himself. The king? Not so much.

Seated near the royal pavillion were other men and women who were of high birth. The Lord Paramounts were seated nearest to the king and the royal family, the Lord Stark and his Westerling wife. Her father Lord Mace Tyrell and her mother, Lady Alerie Hightower along with her grandmother, Lady Olenna as well as her brother and heir of Highgarden, Willas. The newly made Lord Paramount of the stormlands, Lord Stannis Baratheon sat brooding, the closest to the royal pavilion and around him, his wife Lady Selyse Florent and their greyscale stricken daughter, Lady Shireen. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock were also seated near the royal pavilion, with Margaery recognising the Hand's brother, Ser Kevan and his son, Ser Lancel. Lady Lysa Arryn sat with some valemen and women, members of House Royce and Waynwood and Corbray judging by the colours and sigils on their clothing.

She also noticed the various members of the small councile in attendance. The master of coin, Lord Petyr

"Well now, sweet nephew, took your time didn't you?" Lord Tyrion asked as he waddled towards them, "Did you have a lovely stroll with the Lady Margaery?"

"Quiet lovely, indeed." The king replied with a casual smile directed at his uncle. He directed Lady Margaery to her seat and he took his own seat. She was seated beside him, the queen on the other side of the king and the other royal children, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen seated beside her in order of age.

The queen looked at her son, but Margaery could feel the eyes that were looking through the king and instead were looking at her instead, "And how long did you intend to make us wait? It is _your _name day tourney. Can't very well start without you, now can we?"

The king laughed sheepishly at the receiving end of his mother's chastising, "My apologies. I suppose I lost track of time. Lady Margaery shares some of the blame, she's a charming companion." Deep blue and violet eyes glinted with mirth.

Margaery inclined her head slightly in playful apology, "I suppose so. We should have walked at a faster pace."

"No matter." Lord Tywin cut in, his voice the same as those green flecked with gold eyes of his, cool and unrelenting, "All that matters, is that you are here now. We can now begin." Lord Tywin was seated on the other side of Margaery. She found it somewhat amusing, she was seated in between Lord Tywin on her right and his protégé on his left. Lord Tyrion was located on the other side of his father, a gilded gold goblet in hand with a red liquid inside.

She had heard tales about the man they called the Imp, but she couldn't help but wonder, did he drink as much as they said he did?

Beside her, on the left, the king made a swift movement with his right hand and a horn blew out, loud and clear over the sounds and clamour of people talking. The horn signalled the start of the tourney and the people started quieting down. Margaery could feel eyes being directed towards the royal pavilion. Towards the king.

The herald stepped forth, prepared to speak but was stopped by another wave of the hand by the king. The others looked at him as the king rose. He smiled down at them, the easy smile on his face reaching his eyes, "It's my name-day," He said, "Might as well speak to the people as their king for the first time. I never did when I was crowned."

Lord Tyrion chuckled from his seat beside his lord father, "Well this should be good. I must seat and judge your oratory skills."

"Then prepare to be blown out of your mind, uncle." The herald made his way up the flight of stairs quickly with a grace that belied the fact that he might as well had been running up them. He passed the king an open-ended, cone shaped instrument, a speaking trumpet. The king cleared his voice as he brought up the smaller end of the device to his lips to speak, "My good friends of King's Landing and all those who have travelled from all across the Seven Kingdoms, I actually have something to admit," His voice seemed to carry throughout the tourney ground and beyond, high, noble all the whilst sounding as if he talking to a close friend, "People have been saying this tourney is being held in my honour. That's a lie." The words came out rather blunt and quick that it caught people unawares. People looked from left to right, wondering what the king was talking about.

To the right, the imp chuckled to himself, as if he knew some kind of joke that was only between him and the king. Or perhaps that was merely the wine he was drinking. His cheeks did have something of a rosy tint to them

The king continued to speak, "This tourney instead is being held in honour for _you_. Over the past year, a dark cloud had come to settle over Westeros, over our fair kingdom. Some clouds still persist, but they will soon come to pass. This day is in honour for all the merchants, the bakers, the fishermen, the tanners, the smiths, the fletchers, the farmers, the inn keepers, the servants, the brave men, both living and dead, that fought to protect our fair city and kingdom, _everyone. _But today is a brand new day, the sun has risen and it can only mean that means we only start anew. I, Caspian Baratheon am proud to be your king and along with," Margaery found a hand placed on her own hoisting her up to her feet. The king winked at her and mouthed an apology at the abrupt action, "Lady Margaery, your future queen hope to be able to serve you as you have served us! Thank you and let the tourney commence...you better damn well enjoy it as well!"

The king hadn't even given the herald back the speaking trumpet, nor had Margaery retaken her seat in a daze at the sudden proclamation before the response to his speech reached her ears. It was absolutely deafening. The commons was filled with people standing, hooting even louder than they had been before when the king had made his appearance. They were even now whistling and not only was the name, "_Caspian!"_ Being chanted without stop, it was now joined with an equally fervent chant of "_Margaery!" _As well.

"Sorry about that," The king said as he retook his seat. He had to lean in close to her ear to made his voice audible above the cheering and hooting and whistling, "It was all spur of the moment thing."

"The entire speech?" Lady Margaery asked, rather surprised.

The king nodded, "Everything. I'm rather good at making things up as I go along as I have learned." The horn was having to be repeatedly blown to bring some sort of order back to the grounds.

"If your normal speeches are as rousing as this, I wonder how your battle ones are." Tyrion asked with a crooked smile on his face, lounging in his seat, a goblet filled with wine close to his lips.

"I don't give speeches before battle." The king said to his uncle, "Rather pointless if you ask me. A battle line can stretch on for quite a distance. I would need a speaking trumpet for my voice to be heard clearly."

"I suppose that's true!" Tyrion said with a laugh, his words before having a certain slur to them.

Eventually, order was returned to the grounds by the heralds before a single horn was blown once more. This time, the note was different, it was long and low.

That was the signal for the knights to ride out to the field and form up in front of the king. Word had spread far and wide of the king's tourney and in response, knights from all across the land had come to take part. Far more than the king had expected and far too many for a conventional tourney, so it was decreed that qualification rounds would take place for the knights that would want to take part in the main tourney.

Those qualification rounds had even attracted quite a crowd as people came to check out the potential competition and bookies began to draw up favourites from their performance in those rounds. And the winners of those qualifications were the knights that would go on to compete in front of nearly all the realm and the king.

The knights were formed up in perfect array in front of the king. The Lady Margaery couldn't help but notice that the most resplendent knights where the ones located in the front rows of the formation, in glittering jewelled or gilded plate aside equally decorated destriers. Her eyes skimmed the knights before they came across two knights dressed in shades of green armour adorned with multiple gold roses formed side by side, _Loras and Renly._ The future queen was quick to recognise.

The other knights in less striking armour were located further in the back. The knights in the middle seemed to adorn mainly plain armour that showed little wealth apart from their House sigil and in the back where the knights that were on mismatched armour, although these knights were few in number.

"Some people just want to preen like peacocks don't they..." The king mused as he looked over the knights, taking in their armour and livery.

"Don't be like that sweet nephew. Sometimes, a show of wealth can also mean a show of power." Remarked the imp, Tyrion from his sit. His words seemed to have more of a slur to them than before and that was something the Lord Tywin seemed to pick up on as he glanced ever so slightly in the direction of his youngest child.

The jousting competition was to take the first day, then the second day was to be the melee for the knights and lordlings who wanted to take part and another for the squires and commoners who wanted to make a name for themselves and catch the eye of some lord. The last day was to be the archery competition.

The herald signalled for the first contestants to take their places and the others to leave the field. From beside Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen asked a question, directed at his brother and king, "What House do those knights belong too?" He asked as two southron knights took to the field.

The king cast a glance at the knights, taking in their livery and sigils they bore on their shields as they took their places. One was dressed in plate with his small kite shield adorned with a field of red and white diamonds, "House Hardyng," The king said easily as he pointed to the knight before his finger trailed to the other knight on the opposite end, "House Pyle." He finished as he indicated towards the knight with the grey great ironhelm for a sigil. He smiled at his siblings across his mother, his eyes sparkling with mirth, "I told you, I knew the sigils of every House."

Prince Tommen pouted but Princess Myrcella was not to be denied, "It's still early in the day." She said.

The first list of the day went to the knight from House Hardyng who was able to unhorse his opponent in one tilt with some skill. The stands appreciated the knight and applauded him for his feet of skill and the knight removed his helmet to go round the field waving at the stands. The knight underneath the helm proved himself to be rather young, young and comely even.

"Harrold Hardyng, if you were wondering." Tyrion said out of the blue, "His the heir presumpt in case anything happens to little old Robert Arryn..." He leered at them with a crooked smile, his cheeks a dusty light pink, "But don't let Lysa Arryn hear you say that. I hear she doesn't like it."

More knights rode out to the field and a few northerners even took their chances at the tilts despite not being knights themselves. The king had allowed it. The commons cheered and gasped and hooted whenever their favourite knights rode out to the field and won their tilts, some even jumping for joy, no doubt these were the ones that had made bets on that knight or the other winning. And in that regard, some groans rang out throughout some sections of the stands as people realised they had come to lose money when a particular knight found themselves unhorsed.

On and on, the days festivities continued, every two hours an intermission being taken to give the people a chance to stretch their legs and to fetch something to eat or drink. Ser Jaime Lannister rode in the lists, dressed in gold gilded armour that glistened in the sun along with two other members of the Kingsguard, who, unlike their Lord Commander were dressed in white scale and plate armour with a cloak that was as white as milk, _Loras will soon be wearing such an armour. _The Lady Margaery thought as she watched the knights ride in their tilts.

The one called Ser Guyard and Ser Jaime were able to progress to the final bouts, but the young one, Ser Dantis found himself unhorsed in his second tilt. The young knight from House Hardyng was also able to progress to the finals along with Margaery's very own two brothers, Garlan and Loras.

Alas, it seemed even the qualification rounds had done nothing to whittle down the numbers of the knights taking part in the lists and the king soon decreed an end to the day, declaring that the finals will be held tomorrow before the melee. The king and Lady Margaery made their way together towards were the feast was being held, "I have been wondering for a while," The king suddenly began as he made conversation.

"Hmm?"

"From what I've seen, Garlan is quite the skilled knight. How come I've never heard of him?"

"Because unlike Loras, he cares not for glory." Said Lady Margaery with some amusement in her voice, "Garlan is the better swordsman, he trains with multiple opponents to better prepare himself for real combat, but Loras is better with the lance, 'Like he was born half a horse.' Others have said of his jousting abilities."

The king laughed that laugh of his once more, "I can see why. I'm quite confident that your brother will be the one to win the tourney in the end."

"He still has to face quite the talented knights. Those knights from the Vale for starters." If she remembered correctly, one was a Redfort, one a Hardyng, the very same Hardying that had won the first bout. Now that she thought about it, both the Redfort and the Hardyng did not seem that much older than her. The others valemen to make it to the final tilts members of House Royce.

"True, I suppose." Sounds of soft music being played drifted into their ears as they neared the feasting grounds. It was soon joined by a soft hubbub of talking, "Well, my lady, I hope you had a good day in my company."

"It was a very pleasant day." There was a few ways the day could have been better, but it was undoubtedly a good day nonetheless. Now all she needed to do, to officially become queen was to marry the king. Lady Margaery looked at the king speculatively, "But I hope to have an even better night."

The king's eyes met hers for a moment. Deep blue and violet stared at golden brown before flickering back to the front of him. He replied to her sentence with a slight nod, "I suppose that can be arranged for."

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**AN: Before we begin, question,**_ **DID YOU MISS ME!? **_

**Of course you did, silly question to begin with.**

**Anyway, lot of you might be wondering why I was AWOL for quiet the few months with no update and the reason is simple, I just finished uni a while back and moved to Germany to work for my uncle. I had to take care of a few things that and the fact that most of my evenings are spent at a local college learning the local language, so yeah, little free time as it is, but it's all good, Dortmund's alright but I've finally got some free time now, so I shall probably update some more now.**

**See ya,**

**TheForeverKing**


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/GoT_

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Caspian

His uncle was the one to find him breaking his fast on fish, black bread and sweet wine, "Well, good morrow to you, sweet nephew." Tyrion Lannister greeted. His smile was sincere and filled with warmth, but his deformity always made even his warmest smiles crooked. In his hands, he held a ledger.

Not far behind him was Tyrion's squire and seeming shadow, Podrick Payne. The king had come to notice that his uncle's squire always seemed to be right behind his uncle, shadowing him wherever he went. He wondered if that included the privy as well, "Uncle," Caspian Baratheon returned with a wave of the hand. His wave transitioned into a motion towards a free seat around the table, "Please, sit."

"Don't mind if I do." The king's uncle returned as he went towards the seat. He had to hop a little to get enough elevation so that he could take the seat properly. He clapped his hands together as he looked at the menagerie of food laid about the table, "Quite the breaking of fast we are having here, aren't we?" He asked, noticing the grapes, the grapes a mixture of a ripe and deep red colour as well as the pale green of the other variety. There was also steaming hot scones set on the table, fresh from the oven.

Tyrion Lannister gently placed the ledger onto the table before taking one of the scones for himself. He juggled the scone for a second, from his left hand to his right as he was met with the full breadth of the temperature of the baked food, "_Ouch!" _He mouthed before blowing on the scone.

The king looked on amused at the entire spectacle of it all, "I took you for a better juggler than that, uncle." Caspian quipped as he took a drink of the sweet wine from the depths of the jewelled goblet that lay in front of him.

"Only when I'm handling things that aren't about to burn my fingers off." He replied as he quickly shook one of his hands in a bid to try and cool his palms and fingers. The scone seemed to have cooled enough for him to take a bite out of, a testing bite that the Imp approved of, "Busy day you have today."

Caspian Baratheon didn't at all find himself surprised. He had nothing but busy days ever since he became king, but at least he could attest to the fact that now his grandfather was in the capital, he had far less work than he had previously, "Anything new, other than that?"

Lord Tywin Lannister might have removed Tyrion as Hand of the King the moment he entered the city, let alone the Red Keep, but Caspian knew the true worth of his uncle and had kept him on as his secretary. It didn't have the same amount of power or say influence as that as the Hand of the King, but it still allowed him to know far more of the happenings of the realm than most others.

In truth, he was basically a member of the small council, just without a designated area of mastery to look over.

"Not really." Said Tyrion in between a bite of the scone he had pilfered from the food laid out for the king. With a movement of the hand, and a flick of the finger, the ledger found itself open and it's owner perusing over the contents, "First order of the day is that you have to hold court today."

"Positively looking forward to that."

His uncle smiled that smile of his with a flicker of light in his mismatched eyes, "I'm sure you will."

The king wasn't blind enough to not notice the flicker in his eyes, "What is it?"

"A ship made port yesterday," His uncle said, "From the Summer Islands."

"So?" The king asked, rather confused. He thought of the ships that he had come to see in his youth making port in the Blackwater. He had seen all kinds of ships, from merchant carracks and cogs, warships that ranged from galleys to galleas and the strange swan like ships of the Summer Islands, bringing upon them exotic foods and gems and dark skinned men and women, "I doubt a ship from the Summer Islands is news. What's so special about this one?"

If his uncle's smile could stretch any further across his face, it could have, "It holds dignitaries from one Jalabhar Xho, Prince of the Red Flower Vale."

It took him a moment for his memory to remember the name and then a little longer to equate the name with a face, "Dignitaries, eh?" The king repeated with an even smile on his face, "I suppose he was able to get back this kingdom of his."

"That and much more." The king raised an eyebrow at the Imp's words, but Tyrion did not divulge on the matter and kept on being deliberately enigmatic, "All I shall say is that Prince Jalabhar has been a very busy man since we last saw him."

"If you say so, uncle. What of the knights and soldiers I sent him off with? How many returned?" He would have been pleasantly surprised if all of the fifty men he had gifted to Jalabhar to regain his kingdom had returned to Westeros.

Tyrion Lannister sighed and shifted slightly in his seat. He placed a half eaten scone down on a nearby plate, "Just over two dozen men... You don't seem all that surprised." He finished, after a moment of pause.

"I hear the Summer Islands are very lovely all year round. The women are dark skinned and lusty wenches, wet all year round as well." He took another drink of his wine, "If I went there, I doubt I'd want to leave as well. I was expecting this to happen." The king figured that he might have lost some skilled and veteran soldiers and warriors, but in the end, he had gained a useful trade partner and ally state that was near close enough to be a client state by the agreement that was written between Jalabhar and the Iron Throne.

Taking all that into consideration, he would make the same decision again over a million times over again, and again, and again.

"You just love taking everything in stride, don't you?" Tyrion Lannister remarked with a rueful shake of the head.

The king was surprised his uncle would actually ask such a question, considering that the man had known him since he was nothing more than a babe and had seen him grow up to be the man that he currently was, "You should know by now that I'm cynical by nature. I always expect the worst to happen-."

The king was cut of by a shake of the hand, "I know, I know, 'In case something bad happens, all you can be is mildly surprised.'" His uncle gave him a queer, amused look, "That's not a very healthy mind-set, you realise that right? It's almost as if you expect the world to be nothing more than doom and gloom."

"And it isn't?"

His uncle had no retort for that question. Instead, he moved onto other matters that were in the king's itinerary, "There will be a small council meeting after you've held court."

"_After _court?" Was Lord Tywin trying to kill him?

"Don't worry, there shall be an hour intermission before you have to attend, or not attend." He said with a shrug at the end, "Your choice to be rather honest."

"I will attend," He might complain about the work-load to anyone who was willing to hear, but he was king and he had a duty to his kingship. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to be ahead of everything happening in his kingdoms, "An hour's rest is better than nothing, I suppose. Who knows how long court will go on for."

Sometimes, when he was young and had nothing better to do with his time, he would go into the galleries whenever Lord Jon was holding court. It's a statement to how long court sessions lasted by the sheer fact that he always seemed to leave long before the session ended. How Lord Jon Arryn was able to last so long in his advanced years was beyond him. It was only when his father was holding court, where the sessions rather short and brusque and straight to the point, no doubt because his lord father, the previous king would have preferred spending his time hunting, drinking or fucking,_ Maybe some unholy combination of all three_.

Still though, an hour was something and it would allow him time to do something he had been meaning to do now since Willas was in the capital. The heir to Highgarden had been rather confused and perplexed as to why his presence was required in the capital doing essentially nothing, despite being part of the king's court.

"Uncle, set a meeting for me with our master of coin straight after court in my royal office, if you please." He commanded of his shorter than him uncle as he finished off the last of the scone that he had been eating, now neither too hot to the touch or too cold to lose it's warmth by the look in his uncle's eyes.

The secretary to the king wiped away some crumbs at the corners of his mouth before speaking, "Our dear friend Lord Baelish? I can make that happen. May I enquire as to why though?"

The king smiled at his uncle, "Even better, you can be in attendance of the meeting. I think I maybe in need of your services. Littlefinger is a slippery one."

His uncle's interest was certainly piqued by the glimmer in his mismatched eyes of his, "I shall make sure I have the time."

Their time soon ended not long after that. Court was to be held at midday and the king still had time, hours in fact before he had to make his appearance. His uncle was more than gracious enough to leave the king alone to prepare himself for another day at court, which the king was gracious for. Slowly but surely, the king was starting to see as to why his father always kept his court sessions short and brusque or hardly attended or held them for that matter.

Some of the things he had been made to over-see had made him wonder whether he had clerks or not, or someone who was capable of handling the minors cases that were brought to him and in need of his judgement. The most garish one that quickly came to mind at the thought was one of two farmers fighting over a pig.

He was positive that was something their own lord should have handled, not the king. The only thing that came to mind to excuse such behaviour was sheer rank laziness. Now the king was lazy, he wouldn't deny that, but at least he had been drilled into him a sense of duty and would do it, despite whatever misgivings his laziness might have about doing anything that would increase his workload.

"What are you thinking about so hard over there?" A soft female voice asked of him from a door that led into his royal bed chambers.

The king's own mismatched eyes drifted over to the door, "Nothing in particular." He said in reply. The voice belonged to Lady Margaery, dressed in nothing more than a sheer shift made of varying shades of Myrish lace that did nothing to hide her womanly body. He waved a hand over the table filled with food, "Care for break fast?"

"If it pleases, Your Grace." She said before making her way to the table. She took a seat across him.

"It doesn't really please me," Her appearance did though, but he controlled himself. He had things to do this morning before court and he couldn't waste time, "I was merely extending a courtesy. I'm sure you must have been hungry."

Lady Margaery Tyrell had been spending more and more time with him as of late, ever since the king's name-day tourney some few days past. In fact, the king was of the mind that Lady Margaery had all but moved into the king's apartments. He had spent the night with her every night over the past few days.

"Famished actually." For someone that was famished, she certainly didn't eat like it. She was poised and elegant in the way she ate, in the way only a highborn lady could, "Busy day, I take it?"

The king smiled, a leading question if he had ever had of one, "I'm sure you must have caught some of the conversation between me and my uncle."

She gave him a coy smile and fluttered her eyebrows innocently. Her brown eyes did nothing more than to increase the innocent image that she was trying to convey, "That was a private conversation between my king and his trusted secretary. It would have been rude of me to eavesdrop." The king wondered if she had worn that particular sheer shift made of Myrish lace to simply try and get his attention elsewhere rather than asking her of whether she had been spying on him.

If she had, her stratagem was working...sort of. The king was not about to be distracted by the teats in front of him and anyway, nothing of importance had been spoken between the two of them, "It doesn't matter either way. In fact, I have a favour to ask of you." The king said to his future wife.

The future queen's eyebrows raised, "A task for me, Your Grace?"

He gave a curt nod, "Yes, I do. A rather simple one to be honest. An hour or so after court, I would like your brother, Willas," The king had been about to say brother, but then realised that all of his betrothed's brothers were in the capital, "To appear at the chambers of the small council. I'm sure he's been confused for long enough as to why I had him summoned."

"He certainly has been, but he's taken it all in stride."

He laughed, "That's good to hear."

XxX

Caspian had been meaning to do this for a while now, ever since the moment that his guest had entered the capital and even more so when they had entered the Red Keep. The king didn't know when his guest would suddenly up and disappear like she had done before but unfortunately, he didn't have the chance to talk to her or have the time.

Something had always held him from doing this particular errand for himself.

It was a good thing then that some free time had finally been able to appear for him as of now. That and the fact that he did not need to have to travel far to reach his guest. Like many people of importance, they were housed in Maegor's Holdfast.

As he walked through one of the red halls of the Red Keep, sunlight filtering through the glass windows above, he ran into someone he had last seen some years past, "Maester Colemon," The king greeted with a smile.

The maester stopped before blinking then quickly and nervously giving the king a bow, "Y-Your Grace, pardon my rudeness for not recognising you."

"It's nothing." The maester was just like how the king had remembered him the last time that he had seen the man. Thin as a quill and a nervous wreck with too little hair and too much neck. He sometimes wondered how the man was able to function, "Is little Robin here?" He asked.

The maester shook his head, whatever hair he had left swaying with each shake, "No. Lord Robin is still back at the Eyrie."

"Alone?" That came as a surprise to the king. Lady Lysa had been very protective of young Robin and seemed to have been very paranoid about the young lad. She always seemed reluctant to let the boy leave her sight, so it came as more than a surprise to the king that Lysa Arryn was more than willing to leave her beloved 'Sweetrobin' all alone in the Vale.

"The young lord suffered from a shaking fit whilst we were in Gulltown. He wasn't fit enough for the journey."

"I'm surprised you didn't stay behind to take care of him." The king said. Actually, one could say that he was more surprised at the fact that Lysa Arryn had bothered to attend at all if her son was sick.

"Lady Lysa would have liked for me to stay as well, but your royal command..."

The king had nearly forgotten about that and it had only come back to his mind as of this very moment. He might have invited Lady Lysa Arryn to the capital for his name-day tourney and festival, but his invitation was more of a command that could only be answered with a yes. A 'no' wasn't at all satisfactory.

Which actually made him realise the reason as to why the maester had not stayed behind with young Lord Robert was because he had also made sure that the maester was within Lady Lysa's retinue. In fact, the maester was one of the people he had been meaning to talk to, "Maester, if I could have a moment of your time."

The thin man gave him a nervous inclination of the head, "I am yours to command, Your Grace."

Caspian nodded his head before leading the man to a room at the side. He left his Kingsguard shadow for the day, Ser Guyard outside to guard the door and make sure no-one entered. He directed the maester towards a seat within the room, which he noticed was one of the smaller guest rooms of the Red Keep.

The king was sure that he had never seen anyone anymore nervous than the maester as he sat down trying to look at everything and anyone in the room but him. As if it was possible, the man had gotten more nervous and his skin had got this particular sheen, "May I ask what this is about, Your Grace?" He asked, dabbing the sleeve of his long maester's robe across his forehead.

"It's nothing to be nervous about, maester. I just want to ask some questions about Lord Jon," The king said with a re-assuring and calming smile, "I'm sure you know that Lord Jon helped in my development when I was still nothing more than a young, little princeling."

The maester gave the king an anxious nod of the head, "Of course, Your Grace."

"Good. I was wondering, before his death, what was Lord Jon doing exactly? Anything that stood out or didn't stand out?"

The maester looked confused, "May I ask why, Your Grace?"

"Call it a minor curiosity of mine."

Caspian doubted that the maester believed him, but his reply had done what he had hoped for. The maester went into a reflective silence as he thought back to just over a year ago when Lord Jon was still alive and tried to recall anything that stood out.

"I can't say anything about Lord Jon stood out, Your Grace." The maester said to him with a sorry shake of the head, "He carried out his duties as usual, although he did spent more meetings with Lord Stannis than usual outside the small council."

_That was probably after Uncle Stannis had come to Lord Jon with his suspicions. _Jon Arryn had been the only person that Stannis Baratheon could have gone too. The relationship between the brothers Baratheon was vitriolic at best and antagonistic at worst, and neither states said anything good.

If Stannis had gone to Robert with his suspicions, Caspian was more than sure that his father would have laughed in his face or have been angered by the notion that his lady wife was being unfaithful to him with her own brother, _Most likely the former. _The king mused. He doubted his father would have cared about his mother having a lover, but the cuckolding? That was an entirely different story.

"Is that all?" The king pestered for more information, something definitive. _There_ must have been some way that Lord Jon had been able to confirm the illegitimacy of his siblings, something other than the bastards that his uncle had shown Lord Jon, "It could be anything."

If Maester Colemon had been a turtle or a tortoise, he would have withdrawn into his shell by now. He looked so small and pathetic that the king was about to feel sorry for him and bad at himself for making the man like that, "W-Well," He began to say, stuttering a bit, "There was this book."

An eyebrow was raised in curiosity, "Book?" That was something.

The maester nodded, seemingly glad that the pressure from the king he had been feeling had relented, "_The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms._ Lord Jon had been looking through it before his illness took him. In fact, he spent most of his time reading through that tome. I know not the reason though." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders, the movement barely noticeable underneath his maester's robes.

"_The Lineages..."_ The king took the title of the book to note. Perhaps it was in the royal library or maybe he would have to ask the Grand Maester...he didn't like that thought for some reason, "Thank you for your time, maester. I apologise if it seemed as if I was a little too full on."

"You need not apologise, Your Grace."

"Before you go though, may I ask, was there anything strange about Lord Arryn's fever?"

"Strange?" The maester repeated, halfway up from his seat before speaking once more, "There was nothing strange about it, I don't think. But I may have been doing something wrong in my treatments because the Grand Maester sent me away back to the Vale and took over Lord Arryn's treatment."

He was perplexed and for some reason, he really didn't like this, "The Grand Maester? Something wrong in the treatment?"

Maester Colemon nodded his thin head with the too much neck, "I wouldn't know if there was something wrong with the treatment. I did everything I could think of and Lord Jon seemed to be ailing better, but the Grand Maester soon took over his treatment. The Grand Maester had seen a fever similar to the one Lord Jon had and apparently, Lord Jon getting better was nothing more than a sign of things worse to come. I decided to defer to his greater knowledge for Lord Jon's treatment." The man sighed as he ran a bony hand through his thin hair, "It seemed even for the Grand Maester, it was impossible to save Lord Jon. He was a good man."

The king nodded, "Yes, a good man. Thank you for your time, maester. You have given me a lot to think about."

Jon Arryn had been murdered, that was all but definite now, and thanks to this little conversation, a culprit had been brought to his attention. He had learned quite a few things from the maester, but the resulting conversation had also given him quite the few things to be thinking about.

Yes, a lot to think about and a lot of people to be suspicious of as well.

XxX

"A king shouldn't never sit easy." Aegon the Conqueror had once said in regards to the Iron Throne. If he could, Caspian wanted to go back to the time of Aegon and throw a glass of wine into his face and question his sanity when it came to the absurdity of making a throne as nearly as uncomfortable as that of the Iron Throne.

It was as if he took some sort of sadistic pleasure in sitting uncomfortably and the danger of one cutting themselves uncomfortably on the throne just a few bad movements away.

The king had also come to think that Aegon must have been rather a rather arrogant man. He had never met the man, nor did he write any books or journals that could give an insight to his mental state of affairs, but from the few facts about the reclusive man, Caspian had come to the conclusion, he was arrogant.

The Iron Throne for example.

It is said the Iron Throne is constructed from the thousand blades of the enemies that had surrendered to Aegon when they could no longer fight against him or his sister-wives. The fact that instead of being humble about his defeat, he then went on to forge the asymmetric monstrosity of sharp spikes and jagged edges is telling in more ways than one. He might as well have been advertising his superiority over his newly made vassals.

Caspian doubted that was a rather sure way of making your vassals love you, the king was of the mind that if it wasn't for the dragons, more than a fair share number of people would have loved to throw Aegon the Conqueror at his throne.

Another thing, probably milder than the first, depending on perspective was the fact that the monstrosity stood tall in the throne room, towering near everybody except for those that stood within the upper gallery. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to actively look down on people _and _the fact that he couldn't lean back into the throne made it quite the tedious thing to actually sit upon it.

It was infuriating and he always walked away from the thing with a sore back and neck, _Wish that I could just burn it down, jagged edges and sharp spikes, and all._

The throne room was still being filled with the courtiers that resided in the Red Keep. From his seated vantage point, the king could recognise near all of the courtiers that made their way into the throne room. Although there were some new faces that he wasn't able to recognise, and these mostly came from the Reach. He had never been to that part of the Seven Kingdoms and the other lords he couldn't recognise came from the north. He might have spent a few moons in the north, but that had not given him time to recognise all of the lords and lordlings of the vast region.

The courtiers arranged themselves without instructions in order of favour or rank. At the forefront, in plain direct sight of the throne were the Tyrells on one side, dressed in varying shades of green and their most important vassals within their immediate surroundings. The king's mismatched eyes caught sight of the Lady Margaery's own eyes and she flashed him a quick, small smile at the minute interaction before his eyes carried on to the next figure. He made sure to return the smile, small as it was, _I wonder what people will make of that. _If anything, Caspian was sure that everyone in the throne room was a certain kind of sharp when it came to the matter of politics. A small gesture, such as a smile, the minutest of difference in facial expression could mean the changing of the winds when it came to royal favour.

Robb Stark stood at the front as well, on the other side of the Tyrells with his lady wife and the northern lords that had come south with him. The expression on the young lord's expression was cool and icy. Robb had been carrying an even and cool, near stoic expression ever since he came to the capital, but the expression had never been _icy._ The king wondered why, it was then he noticed that he also stood with his aunt, Lysa Arryn, _...I suppose he hasn't entirely forgotten the fact that his aunt ignored his call for aid. _The king wondered if there was going to be a problem there in the future.

Seated at the foot of the iron and steel monstrosity was his family and his council. His grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, as his Hand of the King was seated on the right side of the throne, in the place of honour, golden chain of clasped hands around his neck gleaming in the sunlight coming through the high windows. The queen mother was seated on the left of the throne, on a gilded oak seat with Lannister red pillows underneath, crested with gold. As she sat upon her sit, she was a beautiful sight to behold, beautiful and regal. She wore a flowing gown of Myrish lace and silk and cloth-of-silver, her sleeves loose and flowing, even if one could not see it as her hands rested on her lap. Around her neck lay a necklace of gold with a centre piece of an emerald the size of a pigeon's egg, that made no work of accenting her emerald eyes. Her golden hair was done up in an elegant bun with braids that was held up by a black hair net.

Around the two Lannister members of the royal family sat the rest of the council, Petyr Baelish sat beside the Hand of the King, the same smile on his face as ever. The smile that all but told that he knew something that someone else didn't, beside him sat the Grand Maester and judging by his expression when he had found out where he was to be seating, he had not been pleased with the arrangement. His displeasure was soon dismissed when the first of the courtiers trickled into the court. On the other side of the Iron Throne, seated beside his mother was the master of whisperers, the pampered eunuch Varys, smelling of sweet scents and oils, dressed in flush velvet and satin. And lastly, the newest member of the small council, the master of laws, Ser Brynden Tully sat beside him, his face guarding the nature of his thoughts.

At the foot of the throne, where the stairs led up to the Iron Throne itself, stood two Kingsguard at attention, their eyes scanning the room for danger, Ser Guyard Morrigen, and the king's own uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister.

The king motioned at the herald to begin with the days proceeding. The heraled gave the slightest inclination of his head before silently clearing his throat, "By the grace of the gods, the court of King Caspian, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, shall now commence." The herald announced. His voice carried around the cavernous area that was the throne room, the heralds voice being carried to all four corners of the room, and perhaps even beyond charging by the open doors that led directly into the throne room, "Introducing Xhara Roqaq, envoy of the Red Flower Vale Kingdom of the Summer Islands."

The king sat up at the announcement. This was the envoy that was sent by Jalabhar Xho, the recently instated prince of the kingdom he had been forced to flee from, _Although I hear he now styles himself as king. _Apparently, Jalabhar Xho had gone far and above the agreement he had set up with that of the Iron Throne. The Iron Throne had only agreed to help him regain his princedom, which he had, but then he had gone on to conquer two more kingdoms with the men that had been provided for him. He had not only won back his kingdom, but he had also gone on to conquer the kingdom of the prince who had exiled him and another.

It was said he now ruled one of the largest kingdoms in the Summer Islands.

It didn't matter in the end. Xhara Roqaq would serve as the dignitary for the larger Red Flower Vale kingdom and as soon as time permitted, he would have strong words with the dignitary about the changes in the agreement and what exactly this meant for the original piece.

The Summer Islander entered the throne room, making his way down the red carpet that led to the foot of Iron Throne. Xhara Roqaq was undeniably a Summer Island. His skin was dark and the man was tall and lean. His hair was styled into numerous thick braids with bright and eye-catching bird feathers attached into them. Like Jalabhar Xho, he himself wore an outfit that was mostly composed of multi-coloured bird feathers.

Behind him came an entourage that carried several large, golden coloured chests and exotic beasts as well. Most of them were different coloured birds, but others were more of the fearsome creatures that one would find in a travelling mummer's menagerie. That gave a fright to some of the lordlings and ladies in attendance. He also noticed several Summer Islanders in the back as well, dressed as flamboyantly as Xhara Roqaq himself, but their clothes were less conservative and showed more skin, _Oh boy... _He already had an inkling.

The group stopped in front of him and Xhara Roqaq led them in bowing to the king, "Your Grace," He said with a noticeable hint of an accent. The king surmised it was the accent of a Summer Islander, "I am Xhara Roqaq, dignitary and envoy of His Grace, Jalabhar Xho of the Red Flower Vale Kingdom. We bring gifts from King Jalabhar Xho as a token of his appreciation for His Grace's willingness to help King Jalabhar in reclaiming his rightful kingdom." Xhara Roqaq made a minute movement of the hand and the servants that had brought in the chests opened them all simultaneously. On a side note, the king was impressed at the level of mastery the dignitary had when it came to the command of the Common Tongue. The king wondered if he had learned the language back in his native homeland or had been a sailor or merchant before being tasked with this job.

The lids crashed into the back of the chests with a dull thud, revealing the contents the chests held within.

The chests were filled to the point that he was surprised that the chests were not overflowing with the contents within. Several chests were filled with nothing more than finely cut gemstones of one kind or another. He could recognise sapphires, rubies, emeralds and pearls, along with other gemstones such as diamonds. The king was surprised. He wasn't aware that the Summer Islands were abundant in diamonds. But what had really caught his eye was the chests filled with gold and silver. The other chests were filled with things such as spices, more than enough to be used for a feast for the entire castle and then some along with the pelts of exotic animals. He wondered what kind of animal had a pelt that was orange in colour with black stripes.

"Huh, shiny." Said the king at the sight in front of him. He took his eyes away from the chests and settled them on the creatures that the dignitary had brought with him, as well as the women, "I take it the animals are also gifts?" He did not bother to include the women until the subject was brought up. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to bring them up, someone else had that job.

"Aye, Your Grace." Came the simple reply from Xhara Roqaq.

_I wonder if Tommen and Myrcella like parrots. And monkeys. _His eyes drifted to the large beasts with the claws and teeth that looked like they could rip into a man as easily as a hot knife could cut through butter, "I suppose the larger animals don't bite do they?" He asked, eyeing the animals with neither worry or concern. Surely the Islanders wouldn't have brought such animals into a densely packed place such as this if they were dangerous now would they? _Gods, I hope not._

The dignitary assuaged any fears that the king might have had, "Do not worry, Your Grace. The panthers, tigers and jaguars have been made docile. They are as harmless as a baby tapir."

Setting aside the fact that the king had no idea what a tapir was, all he could do was smile and nod, "That is good to know."

"King Jalabhar also brings another gift for the king's personal enjoyment," The dignitary said, carrying on. He waved at the women and they stepped forward in unison, "His Grace also grants you with the finest fruits of the Summer Islands." Small chatter erupted in the ranks of the courtiers at the sight of the women. A hundred pairs of eyes and more leveled their collective weight on the king.

Little as this was, this was to be a defining moment for the young king. Accept said 'fruits' he won't be that much different from his father and the notion would be given among the court that to earn the king's favour, one would have to simply direct their daughters or nieces into the king's bed. And that wasn't even including the insult that could be made towards Highgarden if he did such a thing.

Despite not even looking at him, he could feel the cold weight of green eyes flecked with gold studying him, waiting for his answer. His mother wasn't so subtle with her look. She was glancing up at him from down below.

Unbidden, he leaned forward in his horribly uncomfortable chair. He could feel cold steel on the armrest where a hand laid and in between his fingers were jagged edges and spikes sharp enough to draw blood with a careless movement, "Thank you," The king said as graciously as he could, a smile on his face, "I can accept all the other gifts my fellow king will give me, but I cannot accept your fruits," He allowed himself to laugh easily, "I am to be wed. I should be true to my betrothed." A lie, but a necessary one considering the audience.

The dignitary merely inclined his head in a bow once more, "If His Grace says so."

Tywin Lannister then spoke up for the first time. He motioned at a servant that stood at the side. The man stepped forward, dressed impeccably for someone of his station, his hands behind his back, "Assign some rooms befitting the rank of our friend here and see to it that his gifts are properly accounted for." The man nodded before bowing his head in the direction of the king and his council before leaving, guiding Xhara Roqaq and his entourage to their respective rooms.

After that, it was merely business as usual. Most of the time, the king allowed his grandfather to give decrees and sit in judgement to the various petitioners. Sometimes, the king himself would interject, lest he be seen as nothing more than a puppet king, which included going against his own lord grandfather on some decisions.

The most noticeable of petitioners were minor crownlander lordlings, lords and landed knights who had lost their lands and most of their riches along with their liege lords who had sided with his uncle in sieging King's Landing and unlike many of their liege lords, did not find themselves sent to the Wall. They had been coming en masse to the capital to plead their cases of how they were honour bound to answer to the call of their liege and that they couldn't refuse lest they find their keeps and holdfasts destroyed and their families and smallfolk killed.

"You are also honour bound to answer the call of your king." The queen had snapped at them, still looking and sounding as regal and elegant whilst doing so. No doubt she laid the blame of the death of Joffrey on the crownlanders that had refused the call, although that paled in comparison with the loathing that was directed towards the Tyrells and Reachmen.

There could be trouble brewed between his mother and future queen. There _already _was trouble, but it was sure to escalate sooner or later.

The lordlings had flinched at the words of the queen but some of the braver ones had persisted to still try and make their case. The king had done what he had come to be regularly doing with such people, he directed them towards his uncle, Tyrion Lannister, former acting Hand of the King, turned the king's secretary, "If you are so eager to reclaim your lost lands, keep and to wipe the disgrace on your family's name, speak with Lord Tyrion. He will know of what you need to do."

The hours came and went like that, occasionally, the king calling for intermissions so that people would be able to get themselves something to eat and drink. Eventually, his court session came to an end and the king was more than glad for it.

There was a certain way the Iron Throne made you paranoid. A paranoia born from having to be extra attentive lest you find yourself cutting yourself amongst the man jagged edges and sharp spikes of the metal monstrosity, _Damn Aegon and his arrogance. _The entire ordeal frayed at the his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to relax, but there was still duties to be done for the day, _Then I can rest. _Perhaps he would enquire after Lady Margaery? He could hardly call her a boring companion. She was lovely in fact, with a certain wit about her that made her company rather different from that of other noble ladies he had come to know.

She had a mind and personality of her own. Most courtly ladies were terribly dull.

He sent a servant to sent for Willas Tyrell to ask for his presence at the small council chambers at the end of the hour.

When the king arrived in his royal offices to relax, he found his uncle and Littlefinger already awaiting for him inside, _Ah yes, this._ The king had forgotten about this particular meeting in his itinerary and he couldn't help but wonder if he was going to have to change his outfit after the little meeting.

"Your Grace," Littlefinger bowed to him, dressed stylish in a long tunic of satin a deep plum colour marked with winding pattern of a dull silver. His beard and hair were freshly trimmed and his grey-green eyes sparkled with mischief. As ever, he wore a look on his face that seemed to imply he knew far more than the person in front of him, "Interesting court session today. I was sure you would accept," He allowed himself a moment to chuckle, "The...'fruits' that Prince Jalabhar had sent you."

His uncle had a wry smile on his face when he spoke, "It's _King _Jalabhar Xho now, Littlefinger. Keep up."

The master of coin glanced down at the dwarf beside him, his eyes shining with mischief, "My apologies. Until only some time ago, my image of the prince was merely a glorified beggar asking for whatever qualms and scraps the throne was willing to give him." The barbs were more open than what Littlefinger usually dealt in. He glanced at the king, "If you won't have them, may I?"

The king raised an eyebrow as he walked around them and took his seat behind his desk, "And here I thought you took your pleasure from nothing but numbers and coin." The king relaxed into the padded leather backrest of his chair. Now this was more like it, _Would if I could hold court right here in this chair. _It would be magnificent.

Littlefinger smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. The smile didn't even reached the corner of those grey-green orbs of his, "Behind everything, I'm just but a man. Even I need to relieve myself every now and then."

"Must be fantastic being the owner of several brothels then." The secretary to the king said, "You must get one hell of a discount of your girls."

The master of coin laughed, "My girls are working girls. I never take advantage of them like that. But those Summer Islanders? I would know many a lords that would pay a pretty penny for just an hour with them." He allowed himself to chuckle once more, "That man, Xhara Roqaq was right. They are fine fruits, full legged and breasted with skin the colour of ebony. I'm surprised you didn't try to partake in them."

"I have a betrothed." The king answered simply, "And she was standing right in front of me with her family and her family's vassals. What would the people have said?"

"You are the king, it is within your right."

"If you say so." The king took a moment to regain his breath. The room was painted a vivid orange colour and it was then that Caspian only realised that the sun was now setting in the east, setting the sky aflame with burning colours. He directed his guests towards the seats in front of him. They graciously took them and the king decided to begin the meeting, "Lord Baelish, are you left or right handed?"

The question caught the master of coin completely of guard. His usual countenance replaced by blatant confusion. The king's uncle was equally confused. He blinked to regain his wits, "I'm dextrous with both hands, Your Grace." He said, emphasizing his point by wiggling his fingers some more.

The king smiled, "That's good to hear." It really was good news to hear. He indicated towards the side were a book lay, "Do you know what this is?" The book was large, more of a tome than anything. It had a black cover with a roaring three headed dragon at the front.

Littlefinger blinked for a moment before raising an eyebrow, "Aegon's Book of Survey. Boring read I have to say, what of it?" His uncle had to lift himself up his chair to get a clear look on the book.

"If my history is correct, it is said that Aegon the Conqueror recorded the value of every land within the Seven Kingdoms to see how much they were valued and from that, the taxes owned by each great house to the Iron Throne."

The king gave a nod of his head, "Exactly uncle. Most taxing systems are based on what is recorded in here, although Jaehaerys the Conciliator had another Great Survey done during his reign to make it more efficient. Took me sometime to find this."

Baelish had a slight glimmer of confusion on his face, "And the last survey was during the time King Aerys the Mad. Done by the lord Hand himself, the great Lord Tywin Lannister."

Once again, the king gave a nod of the head, "It could be said that the Seven Kingdoms saw so much prosperity during my grandfather's tenure as Hand of the King because of that. Although there hasn't been one since Mad King Aerys over twenty years ago, it is recent enough that I can get a good handle on things. For starters, we've had a near ten year summer and everyone else is increasing in wealth...yet the crown had been in six million gold dragons in debt and when Aerys was removed from power, the treasury was overflowing with gold and yet here we are. How is that possible?"

Did Littlefinger's smile just falter a bit and alarm creep into the man's eyes? The king didn't know. The expression had been too minute that he may have caught just a bare inkling or it was all a trick of his eyes, "Your father, King Robert did love his tourneys, his feasts and his whores. They had to be paid for in some way. Coin is usually the method." Answered the master of coin smoothly.

Tyrion Lannister found himself having difficult hiding the smile that threatened to form on his ugly face or the sheer joy he was feeling from seeing Littlefinger being questioned ruthlessly over the state of the crown finances, "I can understand the whores being a recurring expenditure. But the feasts and tourneys? My father didn't hold one every week for the entirety of his reign and you have also been claiming a tenfold increase in crown accounts. Where has that gold come from and where is our gold going? Please do answer."

Littlefinger looked sheepishly as he answered, "These things do happen, Your Grace. You put enough money in a tax collector's hands and they'll eventually start taking some gold for themselves. It happens and much to my dismay, it happens a lot when one works in the treasury, after all, that is where all the kingdoms gold comes to rest." He made to stand, "I shall have a thorough internal investigation if that pleases your heart, Your Grace."

"Sit down." The king said, his voice frosty, "I haven't given you permission to leave." Littlefinger hesitated but did as he was commanded. The king rose from his seat and began to walk around his desk, "See Littlefinger- no, Lord Baelish, such an excuse would have worked for anyone else other than you. The Keepers of the Keys? All four of them are your men. Same could be said for the King's Counter and the King's Scales. The officers in charge of the royal mints, all yours. No doubt they are capable, but once again, they are _your _men." The king walked round to Littlefinger's side, looking down at the man in all of his tall standing. Without warning, he seized the master of coin's hand and placed it palm down on the desk. A dagger soon appeared in his hands and found itself sequestered through the hand of the master of coin and into the desk. Blood began to pool underneath the hand as Littlefinger let out an pain filled scream, "I'm going to need a new desk."

Tyrion Lannister near jumped to his fit, "Not that I wouldn't mind seeing Littlefinger scream, but what are you doing?" He asked, his tone sounding reproachful.

The king casually waved at the squirming Lord Baelish who was trying and futilely failing to remove the dagger that pierced his hand, thanks to the king himself swatting away the other hand, "Getting answers. I'll admit, Baelish is a financial genius, but it's also obvious the man is corrupt. You and me both know he's been stealing from the crown. Ever since father started borrowing from Casterly Rock, grandfather had always assumed that someone in the small council had crumbs around their fingers." He made a motion of the hand in the direction of Littlefinger, "But he's smart in his own way. He's hid his corruption so well that one might only think that he's incompetent, which we both know is not true."

"I'm one for revenge and all, but how exactly are you going to explain this without any evidence?"

"I'm the king, or have you forgotten?"

Littlefinger had stopped screaming and now sobbed in anguish pain. His hand and fingers twitched occasionally, "I wouldn't have taken your for one to abuse his power."

"I'm not." The king assured his uncle, "He also has a lot to answer for. That whole dagger thing to be precise."

Whatever reservations his uncle had previously, they immediately disappeared, "Oh yes, I want to have words with our dear master of coin about that. Because of him, I spent a rather few restless nights in the sky cells of the Eyrie."

The king looked at his uncle, ignoring Littlefinger for the moment, "So what's the problem with what I'm doing now?"

The imp took a moment to think about it, "Nothing." He finally said, "Nothing at all. Please do continue." He waddled towards the side and filled himself a goblet of wine before coming back to his seat and planted himself down on it and began to watch the show. A pleased expression on his face.

The king kneeled down so that his face was level to that of Littlefinger's, "Is it painful?" He asked.

Littlefinger's voice quivered as he spoke, "Your Grace, whatever you think I-Aargh!" He stopped speaking when the king twisted the dagger lodged into his hand slightly.

"Always so clever aren't you Lord Baelish? With your plots and schemes and silver tongue. But that's all you are, a clever little man. When danger comes this close to your person, you loose your arrogance and mocking swagger. What exactly did you hope to gain from starting a war that would ravage the entirety of Westeros? Thousands of good men and women and children died because of your actions." Littlefinger remained quiet, but still quivering in pain, "Do you know what's going to happen to you, now Lord Baelish? Do you?"

"Y-Your Grace..." The man's voice was weak and his eyes stared at the dagger lodged into his hand.

The king gave him the back of his hand, strong enough to make him bleed at the lip, "Don't Your Grace me. Lord Baelish, you _will_ die. That's for certain. But before you do, you are going to write a comprehensive list of where you stole all of your gold and every person who works for you. If you don't..." His shoulders shrugged dismissively, "You will still die...but it won't be at the hands of the King's Justice." He called for the door and two Baratheon guardsmen entered the king's chambers, "Take Lord Baelish to the black cells. The under gaoler has his instructions. And I want him watched at all times. If he so much as disappears for a minute, you will not have a very happy king."

The guardsmen nodded their heads and dragged the master of coin to the black cells with nary a token of resistance.

"That was far better than I thought it would be." Tyrion Lannister said, finally speaking after watching the entire ordeal. He finished of the last of the goblet of wine in his hands, "I would have preferred to make him suffer some more, but I suppose I shall entrust it to the under gaoler and his interrogators."

"A Lannister always pays his debts." The king said.

Tyrion peered at the king from above the rim of his goblet, "You are a Baratheon," He pointed out, "And what debt did Littlefinger owe you?"

"I have quite the comprehensive list if you want to hear it." He looked outside and noticed the position of the sun, "But I doubt we have the time for it. The small council beckons."

"So it seems." Tyrion said as he jumped off his seat, "So Willas Tyrell, eh?"

"Willas Tyrell."

"He is soon to learn the fate of Littlefinger by the day's end, I'm sure." The Imp said as he waddled beside his kingly nephew, "Talk about motivation to do your job right with competence and honesty."

The king smiled, "I didn't think of it that way."

"Of cource you didn't. That's why you have me, sweet nephew."


	26. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer: I don't own ASOIAF/Game of Thrones_

* * *

Jaime

"Brave of them to face us on land." Jaime acknowledged as he looked towards the port of Lordsport. Looking at the distant port town, it didn't look at all that impressive to be sure. A far cry from the brilliance that was Lannisport. It was a mixture of stone and wood, but he heard in the distant past, that when Robert had made his landing and burned the town to the ground during Greyjoy's first rebellion, the entire town had been made of wood, "I thought the ironborn drew their strength from the sea."

His king and only trueborn nephew glanced at him from where he stood, "Stannis destroyed whatever remained of the Iron Fleet, along with many of the other raiding ships of the ironborn. They can only fight us on land now."

In the distant, he could hear shouts of '_Fire_' among the warships of the royal and Redwynne fleets. He didn't need to look to know that the voices belonged to the crew members of the war galleys filled with trebuchets, sending burning projectiles into the town that laid in front of him.

He could already see the damage the initial bombardment had wrought to the town. Buildings were on fire, houses, taverns and inns were crumbled underneath the weight of the bombardment. He wondered if this sight had been the same when Robert had made his own attack or whether it had been different.

Jaime didn't know.

He knew that if he had joined Robert in putting down the rebellion, he would have been among the first to make it ashore and to meet the ironborn in combat. Cersei and blood, that was all he could live for. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Cersei had been able to convince him to stay behind in King's Landing with her.

It had been a magical time. Their love making had been passionate, lustful and unfettered. It was very rare to have the Red Keep to themselves...of course they still had to be careful of the Spider and the other inhabitants such as poor old Jon Arryn.

"Something on your mind?" His nephew asked, after noticing the far away look that had come onto Jaime's face.

Jaime shook his head, his golden hair moving with each movement. He gave a cutting smile to his nephew, "No. I'm finding myself relishing for the combat that is about to happen. It's been a while."

His nephew raised an eyebrow before a small smile came to his face, "Well, if you were worrying about the threat of being captured, I wouldn't worry too much." The jibe made a few in hearing range chuckle and smile to themselves, even among his new kingsguard brethren that were with the king. Jaime patted himself on the back at showing his composure at the jibe.

He smiled, "I see Your Grace likes to make japes."

"From the Lannister side of the family, I'm sure."

At that, Jaime couldn't help but agree with. The Lannisters did have their fun with words, as long as the mockery wasn't being directed towards his father and his sister. They never did have much for when they were being mocked, and perhaps himself, sometimes.

"You will not be joining the battle yourself?" He asked, curious as to why his nephew was sure that he wasn't going to be captured.

"Maybe, maybe not." The king said with a shrug of his shoulders. He glanced in the direction of the besieged Lordsport, "Grandfather wasn't approving of me coming out here in the first place. 'You have loyal and leal lords for that. Tarly and Stannis, to start with.' He had said."

Jaime raised an eyebrow, "And what did you say?"

"This, and that." The king said in reply, "I was quite insistent, might have thrown out the atypical, 'I am the king' line a few times perhaps." He signalled at the captain of the boat, "Give the signal, begin the landings."

The captain stood straight as he saluted, "Yes, Your Grace." The captain relayed the order to the ships signaller who waved a signal flag to the ships opposite and the message was relayed along the invasion fleet of the royal army.

One by one, row boats were lowered into the waters, row boats filled to the brim with soldiers bearing the colours of the Houses of the westerlands. Jaime even noticed the odd House bearing sigils and colours that belonged to Houses that called the north home. He supposed that the Young Wolf had been unable to get to Theon Greyjoy back in Lannisport. He didn't find himself envying to be the young squid, more likely than not, Greyjoy would find himself being on the receiving end of that great big beast Stark kept around him.

He remembered the beast stalking towards him whilst he was in captivity. It was something fierce to behold, that was for sure, but if he had not been shackled and underfed and had steel in his hand, Jaime liked to think that he would have walked away from that encounter with a nice new wolf skin pelt, good for a coat or a rug or as a decorative trophy.

But his attention was taken by the sight of a sigil that he had only come to see recently in the past few weeks. It was a setting sun with nine rays of light stretching out from around it on a black field. The 'Sunset sigil' as his king had called it. According to the king, it represented Westeros and each of the rays represented the seven kingdoms and two provinces underneath the control of the Iron Throne.

It was the flag of Westeros, according to the king. Something for people to rally behind.

The so-called flag of Westeros was flown above the royal standard of House Baratheon by soldiers dressed in uniform black and gold, whether it be leather armour or steel, it was black and gold with the flag boldly placed on the front of the boiled leather or steel plate armour.

It was certainly bold.

He wondered what the other lords thought of this, _A national army...full of professional soldiers, like those of the Free Cities._ How Caspian had been able to find the gold for this was a mystery to him, but whatever kept him amused was of no interest to Jaime.

Well, at least they seemed trained and professional. They had marched at suitable pace, in step with the beat of drums, but it was too early to tell exactly how this 'royal army' was going to handle itself or how it was going to be received.

Jaime watched as the first wave of soldiers made their way closer to land and was surprised that they had yet to come underneath any form of return fire, whether that be arrows or artillery of the defenders themselves. Then he remembered that they were fighting against ironborn.

Being the poor savages they were, they didn't understand the finer intricacies of strategy and tactics, like how using a bow and arrow and even crossbows helped in a battle rather than a close quarters weapon like a sword or axe. Even someone like him, someone who loved the relish of being amidst combat would certainly have ordered archers to loose their arrows when the landing boats had come within range.

Then he realised that the town of Lordsport was still under heavy bombardment from the siege weapons aboard the larger war galleys. Any fool with an arrow would have to be brave indeed to step out amidst the carnage that was happening to loose an arrow, _I suppose they would have to wait till the bombardment is over._ Was there any defender in the town anyway? A good a time as any to stop any amphibious landing was when the enemy was landing their soldiers, they would be ill-prepared and unorganised to repel an attack.

But once more, he remembered these were ironmen. Tactics and strategy didn't seem to be their forte, either wise they wouldn't have even dared to make an enemy of the entirety of the Iron Throne once more.

He eyed at the row boats as they neared land. He found his sword hand twitching and his blood began to pump. He wanted to be on one of those boats, leading man into battle. He glanced at his nephew and opened his mouth.

"Yes."

Jaime stopped for a moment and blinked. It took him a moment to get his wits back about him, "Yes?" He repeated.

The king motioned towards Lordsports, "You can lead the next wave." He said, casting a look in his direction, "I can see it on your face. You want to be in battle. So, yes, you can join the next wave. Although try not to get captured, I don't think the ironborn are in a capturing mood."

Jaime could feel that the smile on his face was somewhat tight, but he smiled nonetheless. He didn't at all care for the japes about his capture, _It only happened once. Am I ever going to live that down?_ And considering his luck, perhaps not. Mayhaps it was better to be japed about being captured than about Aerys. He didn't know which he preferred, _Neither. _He found himself thinking, _I care for neither._ He bowed at his nephew, "Thank you, Your Grace." With a flourish of a turn that sent his white cape fluttering about in the delicate sea breeze, he made his way towards the nearest row boat.

One of the soldiers that was awaiting to board the row boat noticed his approach and his face was in awe. He had seen such an expression many times, especially among the younger men that thought of him a legend, "Ser Jaime!" The lad cried out, excitedly, "Are you going to be joining us?"

The other soldiers began to notice Jaime's approach and began to chatter happily among themselves. Jaime gave them all a cool confident smile, the kind of smile that gave people the impression that he was someone that they could lead into combat, "Yes, Yes I am." He slotted himself onto the row boat, ahead of one of the soldiers. He raised his sword into the air, "Now who's ready to slaughter some squids?" Not one of his best lines, but it did the job. The men roared and suddenly they were clamouring to be aboard the row boats.

For a moment, Jaime worried that they would cause the small boat to tip over and fall into the cold waters below, where he would surely drown, but he was somewhat surprised when he noticed that despite being somewhat over-eager to get aboard, they were still in a night and at the very least orderly line.

He was surprised by the sheer discipline of the lot. It was almost reminiscent of his father's guards that were located throughout Casterly Rock. So disciplined that they could be honestly mistaken for very life like statues.

The row boat touched the waters with a slight splash, spraying water aboard it's small confines before the oars were brought out and the man started rowing. With each passing moment, land became closer and closer.

The bombardment had stopped when the first boat had made landfall and their were soldiers spilling onto the port and beach, charging into the town, _Fools._ Jaime thought. The town might have been burning and they hadn't seen anyone, but who was to say that their were no ironborn lurking deeper in the town for an ambush? It was better to organise their lines first before recklessly charging into the unknown.

For a moment, Jaime had to stop thinking and realise how much like father he had sounded then and there. It was surprising and certainly rather disconcerting.

He liked to think of himself as his own man.

As they got closer, they passed empty row boats that were making their way back to the galleys to pick up even more soldiers. He saw the first of the royal army soldiers disembark and unlike the others, they organised themselves. They set up rally points with serjeants organising the lower ranked footmen into groups with remarkable ease. It was if everybody knew where they were supposed to be and who they were supposed to be with.

Spray from the water washed upon his face and he could smell salt in the air and taste it as well in his mouth.

The boat jarringly came to a halt as it made land. Jaime was the first one of the boat as he jumped onto land, drawing his sword as he did so. Behind him, the sound of feet hitting land or splashing water could be heard.

He glanced behind him and was rather surprised that the men weren't following him, but instead, like the others that he had seen that flew the banner of the royal army, they were organising themselves, with serjeants taking control of the situation. He eyed them for a moment and wondered whether he should wait for them, then he thought better about it.

They might have been happy to loiter around, but he wanted a fight and he wasn't going to wait for it. He saw some soldiers in the livery of House Crakehall and he decided to follow them. He wondered what Lyle was doing and whether he had been among the first to land. He certainly hadn't seen him or heard him, so he might have been elsewhere, _More than likely, he had been first to land and lead the charge._ He smiled to himself and wondered how he hadn't been able to hear his old friend. A man as large as him also had an equally loud voice.

The thrill of coming battle had reached the Crakehall men that he had joined up with him. None of them had noticed the knight in white armour suddenly appearing among their group as they charged forth into the burning town.

Hundreds, thousands of pairs of feet thundered across the wet ground, charging forth deeper into the port town. In the distance, cresting atop a small hill, a small, square keep made from stone overlooked the burning town. The seat of House Botley no doubt and one of the principal targets for capture. If battle was to be made, that was the more likely place for it to happen.

But Jaime wasn't one for sieges. They were never his cup of tea to be honest. He preferred to meet men in open battle rather than scale walls or wait for them to starve out. At least by the size of the keep, it wouldn't take for much for the keep to fall.

Jaime by now had lost the amount of time that he had been with the Crakehall levies. Their battle songs and cries had died down, as they ventured deeper into Lordsport without meeting any sort of resistance, even an ironborn smallfolk or one of their so-called 'thralls'. He was beginning to wonder if anybody had been inhabiting the town.

The large group of men turned a corner in their path and Jaime had the telltale sounds of men dying and steel piercing flesh. His heart pumped and his hand, which had been idly resting on his sword hand immediately unsheathed his sword from it's rest. The grasping sound it made as it escaped from it's prison of soft-worked leather, music to his ears.

He nearly sprinted around the corner and was near met with the point of a spear into his face from an ironborn man who seemed rather pleased with himself by the smile on the raider's dirty face. Having always liked seeing the faces of those he always disappointed, Jaime savoured the man's expression when he noticed that his prey had quickly moved his head out of the way, batted away the spear and then proceeded to remove the man's head from his very own shoulders with a deft looping swing of his castle-forged steel.

Before the man's head had even touched the ground, Jaime was smiling like a mad man and had already felled two more men with blinding speed. Behind him, the small gap that he had man with the killing of the two spear men was slowly being wedged even wider by the stream of Crakehall levies who were following the knight in white.

Now _this_ was more like it. No more jogging around the town, wondering when and where he was going to fight. No more standing guard to a king that he might one day kill. He had already killed one, why not another? It wouldn't make that much of a difference.

Cersei had her charms and her ways of making life interesting and passing the time. Their meetings, filled full of lust and excitement made the world whirl and spin. But even then, that was different to the excitement and thrill he found himself in battle.

The knowledge that one wrong move and misstep would lead to his death, brought a different kind of excitement. An excitement that he had difficult describing or even reproducing. Tourneys didn't do it. They brought their own kind of pleasure, but no the kind that he was filling in this wild, unhinged death of battle that was called war.

In all honesty, he didn't know which he preferred, Cersei or this. If asked, or if the choice was ever given to him, he didn't know which one of the two he would be ever be able to give up. Hopefully, and if he had anything to do with it, neither.

Crakehall men charged and roared as they met in battle. Many had discarded their spears to their ground, the close encounters of their battle making it difficult to use them efficiently. Others had dropped them merely because they had a body stuck on the end of them and it was all rather difficult to pull free the point when in the midst of battle.

When the spear was lost, they wielded all sorts of weapons more suitable to the task at hand, rusty short swords of poor quality, knives, daggers, axes and some had even gone as far to pick up the weapons of the dead ironborn they had killed.

Jaime's blade bounced of the wooden shield of some dirt squid, chipping away at the penmanship and wood underneath. Underneath his helmet, Jaime _tsked,_ any other day and his blade would have sheared the flimsy shield into two. Perhaps it was age, or perhaps he had been lacking with his training. One of the two more than likely, _If Barristan could keep on going for as long as he did, it should be possible for me as well._

This time, his next strike found purchase as his blade dug into the neck of the squid. With a wet gurgling sound barely audible at the battle surrounding them, the squid fell to the floor and died, tears welling at the end of his eyes.

Jaime had already moved onto his next opponent. Another squid with a face he won't recognise. Before moving in to strike, he found himself jerked backwards from someone pulling at his cloak that had lost it's colour and been painted red and brown. He tripped over something, more than likely a body and fell to the muddy ground, _Well, this is bad._

A man came into view, hefting a long axe into the air to bring it down. Jaime wasn't having any of that though. He quickly brought his sword up and felled the man to the ground by taking out his left leg from beneath the knee.

The kingslayer quickly rose to his feet as the man cried out in pain, bloodied hands moving to the stump and trying to stem the bleeding. One man among many who were suffering similar fates throughout the town no doubt.

Jaime moved for the finishing blow but found himself not having the need to as the man was soon trampled upon a by a new wave of troops, wearing colours he had seen much in recent times, uniform black and gold. Shrugging, Jaime followed the reinforcements as they slowly but surely pushed back the ironmen defenders deeper into the town.

The ironborn were soon being pushed back, even as more and more of their men entered the fray from whatever holes they had been hiding in. Jaime had to admit, this royal army of westeros was making a rather good show of themselves.

They thoroughly kept a disciplined shield wall as they advanced, spears out giving the impression of some of abominable hedgehog with metal spines of death. Whenever a hole was opened up when one of them fell, the man behind them would quickly move up to cover it up.

Jaime watched in fascination for a moment. The way they handled themselves and the way they fought, for a moment, he was wondering if his nephew was trying to recreate the old lock-step legions of the old and destroyed Ghiscari Empire and the more recent Unsullied eunuchs.

The kingslayer eventually shrugged his shoulders and began to make his way deeper into battle, _Well, whatever keeps my darling nephew occupied._ He made a point to remove his clock from his armour, lest he want a repeat of what had happened just before.

More ironborn surged from the small streets, smashing themselves against the royal army's metal points. The weight eventually made the shield wall buckle and gaps began to form. Spears were discarded as short swords were drawn and man engaged themselves in fierce close quarters battle.

The ironborn fought with no discipline or skill, merely with the tenacity and ruthlessness of berserker warriors. The soldiers relied on their discipline and skill as soldiers rather than warriors. It was always said that soldiers won wars, but warriors won battles.

So their victory was a given was it? Jaime liked to not pay attention to such things. More often than not, they were made by man who had never stepped onto a battlefield their entire lives, _No doubt some old maester in the Citadel said that. I would be surprised other wise._

"_Kingslayer!" _A man roared.

Jaime just had time to turn before he found himself tackled in the waist and through the window of a burning building. He threw several gauntleted fists at the man's head before he relinquished his hold and rolled away from him.

Jaime scrambled to his feet, taking deep breaths in. That tackle had knocked the wind out of him. He was more surprised that someone had tackled him, after announcing their presence rather than merely stabbing him. Breathing deeply, Jaime took a moment to look at the man. Tall to be sure, perhaps taller than him, with a long face and simple looking armour. He noted the sword that he held in his hand. It was of a smoky grey texture, almost black in colour. Valyrian steel.

"And you are?" Jaime asked.

The man with the Valyrian steel blade spit some blood to the side. Outside, the sounds of battle continued to rage on, "Ser Harras Harlow of Grey Garden."

Jaime took a moment to peruse his mind, "Never heard of you. Although, I have to say, I'm rather surprised to find a knight among the company of the ironborn. Don't you lot worship some Drowned God or some sort like that?" The heat of the burning building was slowly but surely starting to get to him. He could feel himself beginning to warm up ever so slightly.

And the way the building creaked and groaned wasn't at all helping his hidden anxiety. He could already see his grave engravings now, _Here lies Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, crushed to death in a building during the battle for Lordsport._ Not exactly how he wanted to be remembered.

"Some, but not all." The squid knight said in reply. He shifted his grey blade ever so slightly and prepared himself, "Today you die."

Jaime could only smile, "Oh, we both know that's not going to happen." He cast an eye at the sword once more and his smile grew wider, "If you give me that sword, I may think twice about making you live. Father has always wanted a Valyrian blade in the family for a while now. That was the one thing he could never get." Not even for all of the gold in Casterly Rock or the promises of Lannister marriages had been enough to convince petty lords into giving up their precious family heirlooms.

The knight's face tightened, "You can try." He charged forth, sword brought up for a strike.

Jaime lowered himself and held his sword in a defensive position, ready to meet the strike of his attacker. Ser Harras swung his sword from above, aiming to split the kingslayer from clavicle to navel, but with a valyrian blade in hand, no doubt the man would be able to split him from head to groin more like.

Jaime had always been quick on his feet and it showed. His sword shot up to parry the blade and the dance of death began. He drove at the Harlaw knight, the sword in his hand alive with each movement of the hand. Ser Harras more than made a fair account for himself as he was driven back, and Jaime wondered if the man knew what he had got himself into, choosing to fight _him _of all people.

There was a reason many thought Jaime the finest swordsman in the land.

He didn't let up his attack as he continued to drive Ser Harras back with each swift and following blow. Every time the man turned one attack after the other, another would follow not long afterwards. Ser Harras was soon being drowned in a storm of lightning quick cuts, deadly thrusts, and fast strokes. The swords continued to dance and kiss in naked delight, sparks flying with each blow.

Ser Harras turned an overhand blow and quickly transitioned to drive his valyrian blade accurately into the weak armour between the neck and helmet. Jaime slipped away, but berated himself for getting too into his fight as he felt the slight trickle of blood from where the tip of the blade had just been able to graze him.

Perhaps it was the fatigue. He had been fighting for a while now, giving himself little time to take a moment of respite to catch his breath. He stopped for a moment as he noticed his opponent was not advancing on him, and seemed like he was of the same mind as he also took a moment to catch his breath.

"Not half bad for a squid." He acknowledged, "Could be worse, but much better than I expected from you."

Ser Harras' long face hardened slightly, his eyes watching him warily, "I'm _no _squid, kingslayer. A scythe more like."

"Is that so?" Truth be told, Jaime couldn't careless what he was. The man was keeping up with him and he had been able to survive for this long against him. That alone, he supposed, was worth some sort of praise. Even if it came from him.

Jaime looked at his blade and noticed for the first time the numerous notches and chips that had appeared. He really should have known better that even a sword made from the best of castle-forged steel really wouldn't be able to stand much of an onslaught from a valyrian blade of all things.

He whirled his sword in his hand and realised that if things continued as they were, he won't have much of a sword left if this fight was not resolved in a timely manner, _Oh well, what will be, will be._ He drove at the knight once more and pressed the attack. The knight was on the defensive once more. Time slept when swords danced together. It might have been mere minutes, it might have been hours, but Jaime lost track of time and at times when he was aware of his surroundings, the sounds of battle outside seemed to be in the distance and the building they were in seemed to be on it's last legs.

It creaked more, and each creak sounded like the death cry of a man at the end of his life, trying desperately to cling to life. Jaime pinned Ser Harras to a support foundation and drove at him, but the knight continued to acknowledged that he was outmatched and blocked a strike that would have opened his gut and spilt his entrails onto the floor.

With a defiance that was irksome and somewhat respectable, the knight drove at Jaime, making him back pedal, even if it was for a small moment. A floor footing came loose and Jaime near tripped on it, but was able to catch himself before he found himself sprawled on the floor and open for a death blow, but the split had still given the knight an advantage.

He drove at Jaime, his blows even more fierce, with strength that bloomed from nowhere. Each heavy blow rained down on Jaime, and he could feel the strength behind them jarring his bones. The kingslayer gritted his teeth as he weathered through the blows before parrying a strike that could have seen the end of him.

He returned with a powerful wide arc of a swing that Ser Harras met with his valyrian blade and the two blades met in a resounding _clang._ Something snapped and clattered on the ground. Jaime sighed, "Right, valyrian, really, should have remembered about that." He berated himself as he noticed his blade had finally succumbed to the strikes of superior still.

Ser Harras did not take a moment to take his advantage, "This is the end for you, Kingslayer!" He declared as he drove forth, prepared to strike the killing blow.

Jaime went for his dirk, "Whatever happened to chivalry and honour? The Sword of the Morning would have at least offered me a chance to get another blade." Memories of a time long ago flashed into his mind, of a great knight, of someone who he aspired to be, fighting against of what he had become.

"You are not the Sword of the Morning." Was Ser Harras' retort.

_That I do know._ Ser Harras came at him, swinging his greyish black blade in an arc, aiming to take him apart from the side. Jaime brought his dirk to block the blade as best as he could, his broken sword still in his other hand. He belatedly realised he really should have brought a shield at the very least.

Ser Harras' attack was a feint. His sword suddenly changed trajectory and swung downwards, Jaime's eyebrows shot up in alarm. He reacted as quickly as he could as he tried to move his leg away from the way of the blade whilst at the same time, he threw his dirk at the knight of Grey Garden.

Jaime did just about enough, but not quite enough as the valyrian blade bit into his leg, but did not take it. Red filled his vision as he lunged at the surprised knight of Grey Garden who had found himself paying the price for wearing little armour as the dirk was lodged in his shoulder.

He noticed too late as Jaime tackled him into a nearby foundation support with a force that splintered the already battered support to roughly crash into the ground. The tumbling building soon followed, smothering them in burnt wood and flames.

XxX

Jaime felt like he was a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. To be more specific, the weight of the world on his back. No matter how hard he tried to push himself up, to get to his own feet, the pressure on his back refused to budge at all.

And that didn't include the searing pain he felt in his leg.

With nothing better to do, the Kingslayer allowed the darkness that swum at the edge of his vision to take him. He might die, or he might live, it was all up to the gods now.

When he awoke, he didn't know how long it had been, but he could definitely say that the weight of the world had certainly been lifted from his back...but it was difficult to make a single thought of his stick. The world swam and spun. All the colours in the world mixed and danced together, creating strange colours that he had never seen before.

Then he heard the voices, distant sounding, but closer than he thought, "That doesn't look good." One of the voices said. It was familiar, but with the way he felt, he couldn't put a face, let alone a name to the voice.

"The corruption is spreading, Your Grace." Another said, a woman this time. She had a strange affliction to her voice that sounded like an accent. An accent he could only place from across the narrow sea. And did she say, 'Your Grace'? Then the other voice probably belonged to his nephew, "If it's not removed, it might very kill him."

If what was not removed? Jaime wanted to know. He certainly did not like the direction this conversation was going. He wanted nothing removed. Death was a sweeter option than life as a cripple. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, this throat parched, and what came out was barely a notable grunt of _something._

"He's awake." Some genius noted.

"Ser Jaime, can you hear me?" The woman spoke once more. He tried to speak, but once more, he found his voice had left him. The woman continued speaking, "We have to amputate your right leg, Ser Jaime. The corruption in it has already spread and if it continues, losing a leg will be the least of your worries."

_No. _Jaime wanted to say. Nothing was to be removed. Let death take him. The life of a cripple was not a life for him, _Woman, touch my leg and I'll kill you with my very own hands._ He wanted to tell her, but his voice was still lost on him.

"I don't think he would like that." His nephew spoke. Their was an infliction in his voice, but what, he didn't know. After a moment of pause, he spoke once more, "Remove it." _No!_ Jaime struggled to get up, he thrashed around like some new born babe as he tried to stand, "Hold him down!" The king ordered.

Jaime felt hands on him, pushing him down on whatever he was lying down on, "Your Grace?" The woman questioned.

"Take it off. Bring him some milk of the poppy or whatever it is he needs for the operation." The king said, before adding, almost as an afterthought. Jaime did not want any of those two potions. He knew what they did and the sound of the conversation had not been encouraging at all, "I doubt he'll like me much after this, when he regains his wits."

"At least, he'll be alive, Your Grace." The woman with the accent said, in reply.

XxX

Jaime hobbled into the king's tent, his face aflame with rage. His brothers that had been guarding the king's tent had seem reluctant to let him enter, but when he neared, they did nothing. Perhaps they thought, just merely because he was missing a leg, it left him harmless. Harmless enough that he wouldn't dare bring harm on the man that had given the order to make him a cripple.

He was most certainly _not._

Just because he only had one leg, that most certainly did not mean that he was harmless. He was still Jaime Lannister, the realm's greatest swordsman. And he still had both hands.

Jaime hobbled into the king's tent, his crutch helping him keep his balancing as he hobbled along. The king looked up, "Uncle Jai-."

Jaime cut him off before he could say his platitudes, "_You _did this to _me_!" He all but roared as he pointed vigorously at the stump where his leg used to be, "You made me a cripple!"

"Better a cripple than dead."

"Death would have been a greater mercy than..." He struggled for words. His rage nearly made him lose his balance before righting himself and the crutch in his one arm, _This is revenge for the Stark boy._ Jaime was sure of it. He knew the king and Robb Stark had had words in the Red Keep. He could very well have listened to his theory of him having pushed Bran Stark out of that tower. Which he did. He was not going to deny it, "_This_!"

"You are not the first man to lose a leg, I'm sure." His nephew replied, all with the calmness that reminded him of his father. All he lacked was the gold side burns and the green eyes flecked with gold, "And the ones I've seen have survived."

"On the streets! As beggars!" Jaime snapped back.

"And you are a Lannister." The king replied, "You have all the gold of Casterly Rock at your beck and call." His eyes seemed to look into the distance for a moment. A flicker of a smile seemed to brush over his lips, "I'm sure grandfather will love to have you back as his heir...Uncle Tyrion probably won't like that all that much to be honest."

Jaime gnashed his teeth, "You have my leg cut off so that you can sent me back to Casterly Rock?" He refused to believe it would be that simple.

His nephew sighed, a whisker of annoyance in his tone as he spoke, "No. I had your leg cut off because it had been corrupted. If the corruption had spread, you would not have been long in the world for much longer. It took us a while to dig you out of that building you had fought in."

Jaime remembered his fight with the squid knight. The memories of that moment rushing to the forefront of his mind. His rage slowly dissipated as he remembered the thrill, the rush, and the sound of his blood pumping, then the bite of the valyrian steel into his leg.

And all the rage came boiling back to the front.

The loss of his leg was as much as Caspian's, the nurse that had cut his leg off and Ser Harris or whatever his name was, "And of the squid I was fighting?"

"Dead." The king replied and Jaime was glad of it. The king continued, "I have to say, it was a rather bloody mess the moment we found him. It seemed you had stabbed him repeatedly with your broken sword." The king got up from his seat and went to the side and brought something up. It was a sword, valyrian. Jaime remembered that sword well, "_Nightfall_, I believe it's called. I saved it for you, as a prize. Sure enough grandfather will probably have this sword re-forged and all that, to make it a proper Lannister sword."

Jaime looked at the sword not for a second longer, "Keep it. I don't need it." Why would he want the sword that had started this sequence of events that had led to the loss of his leg? _How can I fight as a cripple?_ "What will you do about this?" He asked, rocking his stump, "I'm sure you have plans to kick me out of your Kingsguard." There was venom in his voice, but he did not care. Cersei would never come to Casterly Rock with him, she would stay in King's Landing with all of her brood, "A kingsguard serves for life." _Even if they are missing a leg._

"Joffrey changed that. A precedent if you would."

"And Ser Barristan shall be the only Kingsguard to be relieved of his duty. I'm closing that door." He cared not for the vows or the oaths. He had already broken so many, so what little value did they matter? "I still have both my hands. I can fight with one leg."

The king shrugged, seemingly not caring one way or another, "Suppose you could get a prosthetic, like some of those sailors I've seen in the inns and taverns in King's Landing, Lannisport and the likes."

Jaime had also seen those very same sailors, missing a leg and walking around with a wooden peg for a leg. He stomach turned. He was sure news of his crippling had already spread throughout the camp and if people hadn't known, they surely would by now, having him seen hobble towards the king's tent in what he would like to call a dignified manner, "Gold, I hope. It wouldn't do for a Lannister to have anything else."

The king smiled at that, "Wouldn't do at all." He concurred.

Jaime was still angry. Angry at his nephew. At the nurse who had taken his leg. At the world, but he decided to forget for now. Forgive? No, but forget for now, _A Lannister always pay his debts. _He told himself, "What of the battle?"

"it went by as well as you would think. The ironmen were outnumbered. They took their pound of flesh, but we took more." A gentle wind breezed into the king's tent as Ser Guyard entered. The king looked up, "Is it time?" He asked.

Jaime was confused, what time was it exactly? Ser Guyard bowed before straightening himself up, "Yes, Your Grace. The men are formed and ready."

The king nodded and began to make his way towards the exit of the tent. He signalled for Jaime to follow him and Jaime did as his king commanded. He noticed that apart from them, they were very little soldiers in the camp.

Then he realised that when he had been making his way towards the king's tent, all the soldiers had been going somewhere. It didn't take him long for him to realise where somewhere was.

They were still on Pyke, but they had made camp on the outskirts of Lordsport. In the distance, in the direction of the castle Pyke itself, he could see a huge pillar of black smoke rising into the sky. It didn't take him long for Jaime to realise what had happened, "You burnt Pyke to the ground?"

"It's a tad bit difficult to burn stone, unless you had dragonfire and wildfire of course. Luckily for us, we had wildfire. Not so much as lucky for the people still inside."

"All of them?" Jaime said in surprise. In all honesty, he didn't think his nephew had it in him to burn people alive. It almost sounded like something his father would do. Perhaps he hadn't given his father enough credit. It seemed as if he had moulded himself a suitable heir after all. It was a shame Joffrey had to die to ruin all his good work.

His nephew looked at him, a quizzical eyebrow raised up, "Don't be silly. What would their deaths their have served?"

"Sent a message? Don't defy the Iron Throne and all that?" Jaime was confused to say the least.

"Oh don't worry, Balon Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy and Victarion Greyjoy will die. So will the Iron Islands, but I prefer to do it in King's Landing, my seat of power. In front of the entire court, so the message can be heard all the way from the north to Dorne."

"I think burning them inside their castle would have been enough of a message. Harren the Black certainly got it. When Aegon burned Harrenhal atop Balerion the Black Dread."

"Not exactly the message I want to sent, uncle. You'll see soon enough.' They continued to make their way through the camp before reaching it's outskirts. To his surprise, he saw many of the levies and soldiers that had fought underneath the royal banner standing in formation, at the forefront the soldiers of the newly minted royal army.

The king didn't waste time and made his way to the front, where Jaime noticed were ten poles rooted into the hard, unforgiving land and tied around them, ten people tied so that they could look behind them, but leaving the bare back of their flesh pointed in the direction of the soldiers of the royal army.

The king cleared his throat, and spoke as loudly as he could. It was his lucky day, the wind was blowing in the direction they were standing and it carried his voice, "These men you see in front of you, the men who fought beside you stand as they are today accused of committing the crime of rape. The standard crime for rape is gelding, but for those who serve in the royal army, it's...slightly different. I created the royal army so that they could serve as the shield of the realm and the realm _is _the people that live in it. Me, you, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers and everyone else. Even including these poor fellows that dared to rebel against the authority of the Iron Throne and ravaged and pillaged to their hearts content on the western coast of westeros."

The king took a moment to catch his breath before speaking once more, "in the royal army, crimes that harm the people are not _tolerated_! This was made aware to everyone who was enlisted before, after they signed up and during their entire service. Therefore as commander, I hereby punish these men to be whipped...by each and every member of the royal army."

Collective gasps could be heard throughout the gathering of men. What the king had just ordered was essentially a death sentence. A long and excruciating one. Jaime shook his head, _I can see the brotherly resemblance._ Joffrey and Caspian had never looked much alike and acted so differently one had to wonder if they were truly brothers. They were about as different as night and day.

This punishment of his had certainly changed his mind of that.

The king gave a nod of his head and the company captains stepped forward, a whip in their hands. The alleged cried out for mercy, others for a quick death. Perhaps, but the king had ordered for cloths to be put into their mouths, to stop them from biting their own tongues off and committing suicide.

The first waves of whips sounded out like a crack of thunder and a muffled yell or whimper would soon follow. After they were done, the captains passed the whip onto the next man, a grim look on their face as they carried out the punishment.

The king would sometimes stop the punishment and have the man attended to by maesters. Jaime watched with an impassive face. He was just extending their suffering and even for Jaime's cruelty, he knew that he would never make a man suffer as much as this.

But the king was intent on making a point. His army was to a higher standard than the usual levied armies of the other kingdoms, raping and pillaging was something that he did not want to ever have to deal with again.

By sun down, all the rapists were dead, their backs red and fleshy and their muscles and tendons showing. Whip marks decorated the back, crissing and crossing making some sort of macabre portrait.

The king had left their to be food for the crows, _Even crows deserve to be eaten, I suppose._ Jaime thought as he made his way back to the camp.

He looked at the king in a new light. It seemed that even he was capable of cruelty, if he felt the need for it. If they were ever found out, him and Cersei, Jaime wondered what sort of punishment, death would the king think for him?

Well, he supposed it was a good thing that he never planned on being found out.

XxX

"Jaime!" Cersei burst into the Lord Commander's room, skirts swirling. Her eyes were frantic and searching as she crossed the room to him, "They say you have lost a leg, is it true?"

"Aye," Jaime replied, bitterly, "It's true." He raised the stump of his leg.

Cersei stopped short of him, her breasts heaving as she drew breath. Had she run here? He supposed he should hope that no-one had seen her, but it was late at night when he and the king's army had managed to return to King's Landing.

She covered a gasp of her mouth with her hand, "The Greyjoy's will pay for this. I'll make sure of it." _I'm sure Caspian is already thinking of how._ Cersei went to him, taking one of his hands into his own, "You can't serve in the kingsguard like...like..."

"A cripple?" Jaime finished for her, bitterness and resentment in his voice. He knew full well what he was, "I told Caspian the same thing. A kingsguard serves for life. I'm not breaking my oath."

His darling twin sister looked up at him, "A kingsguard is supposed to take no wife or father nor children."

Jaime rolled his eyes, "Well this one at least." He leaned in and kissed Cersei on the lips, "This oath...being in the kingsguard, is the only thing keeping us together." _Even if I sully the name and coat with my sheer presence._

"Father will think other wise." She told him.

"He can try. I'll simply tell him to bugger off." But could he though? That was the question.

"Jaime..." Cersei tried to speak, but Jaime cut her off when he roughly pressed his own lips onto hers and forced his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues danced and wrestled for a few good moments before Cersei pulled away, "What are you doing Jaime?" She asked, eyes darting to the open door behind her, the one she had entered through, "What if someone walks in and sees?"

Jaime looked at the door, got up and dragged Cersei with him to the door with difficulty. He was still not used to the crutch and it was difficult dragging someone as well. He closed the door and turned and put his lips on Cersei's once more. He pulled away and began to pecker her neck with affectionate kisses, "There." He said, "No-one can disturb us now." He began to undo the laces of Cersei's gown, whilst the crutch cluttered to the floor as the hand holding it went to find Cersei's sweet post.

Cersei gasped as she felt his fingers enter her folds, "Jaime!" She gasped.

"Quiet now." Jaime growled into her neck as he released Cersei's breasts from the gown and bodice that kept them confined, "Don't want anyone to hear us now, would you?" The Lord Commander's room might have been the largest and given the most privacy, but there was always a risk when it came to their little sessions.

Jaime began to remove his own clothing as Cersei seemed unwilling. His hand went to his sword belt.

The door behind them creaked as it was being opened. Alarm shot through Jaime's mind and he quickly grabbed his sword and as he pulled it out, he was already pivoting. A one legged man pivoting was a sorry sight, but it still did the job as the wide arc of his swing was able to draw blood.

Jaime nearly fell as he tried to regain his balance, before remembering that he only had one leg. Through luck, he was able to balance himself with his sword by using it as a make shit cane of sorts. Cersei was covering herself up as best as she could with one of her arms as she tried to dress herself, "Have you ever heard of knockin-." She began hissing but stopping for a moment as her eyes widened as she stared at the entrance.

Jaime wondered at what she was looking at and looked at the uninvited guest and interloper and he found himself being unable to speak. When he did speak, his voice was nothing more than a barely audible squeak, "Father..."

Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Lord Paramount of the westerlands, leaned against the door he had entered through, hand hopelessly trying to stem the blood that was flowing for the cut into his abdomen.

He was quiet for what seemed to be forever. He raised his bloodied hands, a wet, dull thud was heard as his guts spilled to the floor from the cut. He looked at his hand, and was that shock, Jaime saw in those eyes of his? He could not know.

But the words he uttered next would forever haunt him as Lord Tywin looked at both him and Cersei, shock giving away to fury. If he had any blood, other than the one pouring from his guts, Jaime was sure his face would be red with anger.

"You are no children of mine." The Old Lion declared.

And then, he died.

* * *

**AN: Been a while, but yeah, who knew being an actual working adult was complete and utter misery? Bills, relationships, partying, working, bloody hell, it's a nightmare. I wish I was five again and taking my parents for granted :(**

**Well, despite all, that, figured I should actually revisit my old works and update some more. Should be updating more regularly now, perhaps. Not going to make any promises though. **

**Laters,**

**TheForeverKing**


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